


Vignettes from the Voyage

by JumpingTheMoon



Series: Danganronpa: The Voyage [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Foreshadowing, Friendship, Gen, Intercrural Sex, Multi, One Shot Collection, Ousama Game, Party Games, Polyamory, Romance, Slice of Life, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - F/F/M, Vibrators, Wimp Brigade/Black Hats, Wrestling, tone varies wildly, watch out for whiplash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 123,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingTheMoon/pseuds/JumpingTheMoon
Summary: Trapped together on a beautiful tropical island. No contact with the outside world. A stuffed rabbit telling them to become good friends. What else is there to do? These are side-stories from the Voyage, taking place at different points along the main story's timeline. Some are sugary sweet, others are sordid and salacious.LATEST CHAPTER►You Must Live II (Touko)| Turns out that Hell is cold.Come join theOfficial Voyage Discord Serverand be a part of our friendly community of Danganronpa fans! We like murder, but we're very civil about it...? I post updates about the fic in real time, including previews of upcoming chapters, there.





	1. 1-6a. Ultimate Fashion Alliance [NSFW] (Tsumugi)

**Author's Note:**

> As with any Danganronpa fanfic, I strongly recommend you play all the main series games before you give this a go. Spoilers could come at any time, in any form, in the story or in the comments, and that's just how it goes. Also, this is a side-story collection for the main fic, Voyage of Passion and Purpose. Each vignette is set during that story's timeline, and will likely have spoilers for that point in the fic's plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why the hell did I decide that sisters fucking each other was the very first thing my new branch of the story needed to have? Anyhow, consider yourself warned. It happens. Feel free to skip this, or any of the NSFW chapters if you're not down for any of it, they're all clearly marked.

**F** or the second time in three days, someone broke the lock on Tsumugi Shirogane’s Ultimate Lab.

Great.

_“Moogs!”_

No, that wasn’t some animal’s mating call. it was the Ultimate Cosplayer’s endearing nickname. Given by the pink-haired leggy lady who first came through the ruined door.

Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Fashionista.

Lowkey highkey a goddess.

She could have had her sister, the Ultimate Soldier, Mukuro Ikusaba, kick in Tsumugi’s face instead of her door. She’d have been fine with it. As long as Tsumugi got to remove her glasses beforehand.

Mukuro followed Junko, cool as a bounty hunter frozen in carbonite. Probably just as hard, too.

The sisters opposed each other on every level of character design. One was bright, pink-haired, colorful, girly, and energetic. Style personified. Busty, and proud of it. With a black and pink outfit cut to ensure maximum cleavage, and a pink miniskirt to work with her long legs. The other was muted. Black hair cut short, a simple, streamlined design, and a focus on function. White button-up and brown skirt. Freckles and the enchanting shade of those icy-blue eyes were as much style as Mukuro could present. The only way in which they didn’t clash was Mukuro’s slavish devotion to Junko.

Sisterly love was truly beautiful. It was day four of this absurd tropical vacation. Tsumugi had yet to see them apart. If she had a cylon for a sister who could break anything, and anyone, in her path, Tsumugi supposed she would also make good, and frequent, use of such an asset.

“Moogs! You _are_ here! I’m so glad to see you~!”

Tsumugi was not a girl who considered herself emotional. However, she felt a blush rise on her own pale cheeks. She brushed a lock of ocean blue hair out of her eyes as she stood up to greet her forceful visitor. “G-Good afternoon, Junko. Mukuro.”

Mukuro nodded to her, acknowledging her existence.

How generous!

It was the best that could be hoped for. Blaming Mukuro for carrying out Junko’s destructive will was like blaming the sun for rising. Or studio executives for meddling with promising new seasonal anime. It was a force of nature by that point. A natural law. Who could really be mad at a tornado?

Mad wasn’t her style anyway.

Tsumugi kept the entirety of the world at a cool, frosty, normies-get-out level of disdain. When she encountered things that should frustrate her, like breaking and entering, an actual literal crime back in Japan, she could take it all in dignified stride.

She considered both Junko and Mukuro to be friends. So the blue-haired, thick cosplayer held back the biting comments. Neither of them knew her well enough to appreciate how much a lack of snarking came straight from the heart.

Honestly, the Ultimates were all just getting to know each other.

The Ultimate Fashionista’s lab was not one the first twelve. Junko had to rely on the Rocketpunch Supermarket’s generic selection to ply her trade. Tsumugi’s Ultimate Lab, although it was focused on fiction rather than real trends and the latest hot items, was a safe harbor in the fashion disaster storm.

Tsumugi didn’t mind getting regular visits from a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and her handsome, strong sister.

Even with the damage that ensued.

Junko spun around, towards the clothing racks, digging through them. Creating quite a mess. “This really is a spectacular lab, Moogs. Usami thought of everything. She even realized that your ability to cosplay so convincingly extends far beyond ‘just’ fictional characters, and stocked you up accordingly.”

Tsumugi tensed up. Was this some kind of test? What was her reaction to that supposed to be? She said nothing.

How had Junko worked it out so quickly? Tsumugi had taken all the sets of clothing given to her Lab to allow her to impersonate fellow Ultimates. She dumped them in the Ultimate Imposter’s lab next door. Since part of the Imposter’s equipment was identical sets of copycat clothing, it was a good way to mask the truth.

In a private chat with Usami, Tsumugi had firmly requested that part of her Lab not be restocked.

So far, everyone assumed she could only take the form of fictional characters. That was an impression she wished to keep going as long as possible. In a climate of traitor-hunting, everyone learning that she could become anyone, anytime? It could disturb people unnecessarily.

Junko not only figured it out, but went over, waltzed in, and announced it.

For what purpose? What could possibly be served by this action? It had to be to judge Tsumugi’s reaction. She had to stay cool. Not typically difficult, but Junko raised the heat level of any room she was in by ten degrees.

Celcius.

Tsumugi could admit she was a nerd. She owned it.

“I mean, the stuff you took to fill shelf space still has their Rocketpunch price tags and stuff.”

“I was going to get around to handling those,” Tsumugi mumbled. No point denying anything. Or ever contradicting Junko. If she was right, she would hold fast to whatever she was convinced of, and force the point through. If she was wrong, which had yet to happen, it was probably the same plan. “Are you going to tell the others?”

Junko shrugged, as she kept digging through Tsumugi’s stuff without a care in the world. As she did, she bent forward, making an already miniskirt very mini indeed. Tsumugi, from her position sitting down, had a great angle. A few more degrees here, an errant movement there… or was Junko even keeping track of that? To make sure her skirt was always just about to ride up, but could never give Tsumugi a peek of what was underneath?

No way. That would approach the point of true absurdity.

When you started to play that game with somebody’s actions, you went right down the rabbit hole, like Alice in all those visual novels.

“Don’t worry, Moogs. Everybody’s got secrets, or stuff they’d just rather not talk about. I understand completely, it’s whatever.”

Tsumugi let out a breath she’d been holding. Her corset-wearing figure slumping forward on the couch. “Thank you.”

“You know, your Lab revealed something about you, but you still don’t know much about me or Mookie. That’s not very fair. We could, like, totally fix that. If you’re up for playing a little game.”

Tsumugi sat up straighter, ironically. “What sort of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

Junko gave the V sign with her fingers, winking for an imaginary camera.

So, just to review. Two pretty girls barged into her Ultimate Lab, and more or less demanded that she play party games with them to pass the time.

Dear Penthouse. I never thought this would happen to a Plain Jane like me…

Tsumugi knew better than to consult Mukuro. “I accept.”

“Awesome!” Junko struck a new pose for her inevitable victory. “Naturally, Mookie is super interested in you too, so she’ll be coming along. Maybe we can make things more interesting? Some drinks, perhaps?~”

A spectacular idea for taking the edge off Tsumugi’s nerdy awkwardness, but also blunting her normally sharp mind, too. Junko was playing to Tsumugi’s strengths, but also challenging her to a battle of wits

While they would both get more intoxicated, and let go of self-control. It sounded like a recipe for a beautiful disaster. “Sure. What sort of things do you ladies drink? To put it plain, I can mix nearly anything you’d get from a bar.” She went back behind the counter of her lab’s personal mini-bar. Tsumugi’s hands, deft, nimble, and quick from countless hours of sewing and poking herself with the needle, until she was fast and accurate with every motion, moved across glasses and bottles.

“I’ll have whatever you are, Moogs! Surprise me! I love surprises more than almost anything. Mookie?”

Mukuro shrugged. “Sake, please.” Interesting reply. Did it reflect how Mukuro, as the Ultimate Soldier, had spent a lot of her high school years abroad? If you asked for ‘sake’ to a Japanese person like Tsumugi, it could really mean any alcoholic drink. The ‘actual’ sake, the rice wine that Japan was so well known for, could often be called ‘Japanese liquor’ just to avoid the ambiguity, when one ordered drinks.

She could have been ordering either the rice wine, or expressing that she didn't really care. Therefore, the only safe play was to pour her a glass of sake. Either it would be what she had in mind, or she wouldn’t care either way. At very worst, Tsumugi’s pride as a bartender, which she took to perhaps an unreasonable extent maybe, would be covered by that ambiguous wording.

Tsumugi wasn’t getting worked up because two attractive women were interested in her. Which caused her to act like the kid in third grade who obsessed over how to answer the class roll call, until her turn came around, investing so much stock into an ultimately trivial thing from sheer nerves.

That would be silly.

To reduce complexity, Tsumugi poured out three glasses of sake. “Don't want to get us so drunk that we can’t hold intelligent conversation.”

A rarity on Gopher Island. Just like privacy. Or sturdy locks.

“Good thinking, Moogs.” Junko got her drink, and Tsumugi couldn’t help looking at Junko’s hands up-close. She didn’t just value her own hands and their dexterity, she looked at other girls’ hands, as well. And had a tendency towards an active imagination.

Fiction and fantasy were always superior to the real world.

Inside Tsumugi's own head, she could feel what those long fingers, capped by hot-pink, long, rounded nails, felt like firsthand. What they would feel like, inside Tsumugi.

Not a likely outcome in reality, no matter how drunk Junko got. There was always that little hope in the back of her mind, though. Hope wasn’t usually an emotion that Tsumugi entertained, but it was useful for her today.

Without being asked, Mukuro arranged the couch and a pair of comfortable chairs around a low coffee table. Junko took the couch without a second thought. Tsumugi sat across from her, with Mukuro to the cosplayer’s right side.

“Okay! Turn order!” Junko took a sip of her sake, and nodded approvingly. “I missed, like, drinking. So much, oh my gosh… Ahem. I think that I should go first, since I was the one who had the idea for the game!”

Junko didn’t need to justify it. Neither of the other women were likely to protest anything she did.

The motion passed with no complaints.

“Awesome! And you can go next, Moogs, since you agreed to be our generous host. Mookie, you can, uh, what’s the term? ‘Bring up the rear’? ‘Watch our six’?”

“Great,” Mukuro replied. She set her own sake down on the table without touching it.

“Okay! So, game start!” Junko reclined back into the couch, kicking her long legs up, and in the process, nearly flashing a nice view again. It had to be deliberate. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel, with such a short skirt, multiple times in a row. “I already know literally every single thing about Mookie. So my first choice is mega obvious. Moogs! Truth, or dare?”

Tsumugi’s brain was jammed because she stared at Junko too long, so she took a moment to reboot. Both sisters were looking at her, and she had to think this through. Truth was by far the safer option, all she had to do was talk about herself. If there was really anything to even say.

Dare, on the other hand, would be far too bold. It would open her up to just plain humiliating dares.

Hmm. Wouldn't Junko admire a bold play far more than being defensive or coy?

“D-Dare, please.”

Indeed, the Ultimate Fashionista was pleased with this result, raising her hands into the air and stretching out. Which pushed forward her cleavage, exposed along with the top of her black, frilly bra. Shameless and gifted. “Very nice, Moogs. You’re starting to pick up on what I really want without me having to say it. Just like Mookie can do. Speaking of which, why don’t you go over and give her a smooch?~”

Tsumugi tensed up. “Ahaha, what, like, a kiss?”

“Yes. That is your Queen’s royal order!” Somehow, a crown ended up on Junko’s head, and she gave the classic anime-standard noblewoman’s laugh. “Ohoho. It will be troublesome for us if you do not obey our commands, promptly and without question.”

Her face was heating up. Tsumugi could feel it. Her heart rate skyrocketed. She looked over towards Mukuro. There was no expression at all on the black-haired girl’s face, even in the face of such an order.

Was it possible that these two had figured out something else important about Tsumugi? Or that they, themselves, were cool with that?

How many levels of scheming and plotting were they on right now? Four, or five?

“Hahaha,” Tsumugi fake-laughed. “Sure, I guess?”

She walked over towards Mukuro, who stood up. During those few seconds, Tsumugi came up with a plan. Something to deflect the pressure, and avoid making any major moves until she felt more secure. The situation right now could have gone either way.

Junko might have just been messing around. In which case, going for it, even though a buzzed Tsumugi couldn’t think a better idea than to kiss another girl, might be a critical mistake. She might have expected Tsumugi to just refuse, but then why give that order?

The Ultimate Cosplayer dropped to one knee, took one of Mukuro’s hands, and admired the ornate wolf tattoo she found there. Tsumugi was, admittedly, big into hands. She hadn’t expected to find much of interest with a straightforward, straight-laced girl like Mukuro Ikusaba. That wasn’t the case at all. She certainly didn’t have the long, painted nails of her sister, but she kept her hands in good shape. There were few calluses or scars anywhere, even though Mukuro had to have been rough on her hands.

If Mukuro just painted those nails, perhaps a gothic jet-black to match her hair, or an icy blue like her eyes, they would be truly lovely.

In fact, Mukuro’s whole thing seemed to be ‘could be pretty, with just a tweak here and there’. If she dressed like her sister, even just in some identical copy of her outfit and flamboyant hair? It could achieve the same dazzling effect, or close to it.

Two Junkos. Tsumugi had to remember that one for later.

She came back to her senses, and kissed the wolf tattoo, like a noble knight from an old-school RPG, courting the lady. Tsumugi withdrew back to her seat as soon as she could, still blushing heavily.

Junko pouted. “You got away this time, Moogs. Next time, I won’t leave any loopholes.” A detective hat appeared on her head. “Junko Enoshima always gets her woman!”

Not good. Her wacky antics, so unlike the consistent persona she portrayed in public, made it extremely tough to read Junko’s actual feelings. How annoyed was she really about that defensive move?

“Hahaha, you’re such a kidder, Junko.”

After all, Tsumugi probably wasn’t bold enough to just, like, pucker up out of the blue like that. It would make her seem just plain weird if she was, right? Both of her visitors would think she was weird if she was the type of girl who liked kissing girls, a lot.

Right?

There was getting lucky, and then there was happening to get to know two smoking-hot ladies, who were also into ladies, and who also thought Tsumugi was interesting for some odd reason. This wasn’t even Penthouse level anymore.

Was she the true Ultimate Lucky Student?

“Mookie loves to talk about where she got that tattoo, by the way. Well, ‘loves to talk’ is putting it too strong. It was her old mercenary company, Fenrir. Big into the wolf motif thing. But that’s cool, so it’s cool.” Junko adjusted a pair of glasses. She pushed them up farther than that bra pushed up her huge chest. “Surely you’ve heard of Fenrir, dear girl. At some points, they were the top private military company in the world. Even hearing that one side had inked a contract with Fenrir could bring an entire war to an end before that ink was dry.”

Although that sounded like the plot of an anime, it was in fact something from real-life. So Tsumugi had no knowledge of, nor interest in, it. She pretended to, though. “Simply amazing, Mukuro. My talent is just to play dress-up, but you’re like an elite warrior.”

“Soldier,” Mukuro corrected her, dryly. “Warriors want to destroy things. Soldiers want to protect something.” She looked over towards Junko, adoration in her eyes. “I think you understand.”

Oh, yes. Sisterly bonds were wonderful things, indeed.

Now all her shameful fantasies, the things she’d never admit to another living soul, took on a distinctly new flavor. One pulled from her own deepest, darkest secret preferences. It was no surprise when she spaced out, and Junko had to snap her out of it.

“Moogs! It’s your turn. Come on, come on!” Junko egged her on. “Pick a victim.”

Oh, right.

“Uh.”

Tsumugi’s decision that she was going to be bold, and impress Junko, died quicker than a character who swears to end the killing game, in a killing-game game. “Mukuro, truth or dare?”

Mukuro opened her mouth, but it was Junko who spoke. “Choose dare, Mookie. I want to see what she’s scheming, behind those glasses.”

T-That wasn’t allowed in the rules!

Well. Tsumugi supposed the rules of truth or dare were whatever the three girls in the room agreed they were.

So, they were whatever Junko Enoshima said.

“Dare,” Mukuro echoed obediently.

Tsumugi’s plan had been to ask a teasing question, maybe probe just how deep the sisters’ mega close relationship really was. She was on the spot, now. Under pressure to choose. Something clever, quickly.

“Uh! H-How’s this? I won’t lose so easily, Junko! Mukuro, please undress your beloved sister until she’s in her underwear!”

Oh no, what was she doing. What did she just say out loud.

Tsumugi took another large drink of her sake, even if that was the influence that got her into this mess. Or rather, removed her last scruples and worries, and allowed her to proclaim that.

Even though Tsumugi was supposed to be the Queen, Mukuro looked to Junko for confirmation. She got a massive smug grin by way of reply.

The Ultimate Soldier stood up.

“Just kidding,” Tsumugi hastened to add. “So you don’t really have... to…”

Mukuro knelt down, undoing the red laces on Junko’s high-heeled boots, before removing them. Followed by her black, short socks, one after the other, rolling them down with care, and then folding them up neatly to the side. The care she took, along with the look Mukuro gave as she tilted her head up in reverence of her sister, made the scene look particularly intimate and loving.

No way.

Tsumugi had to be imagining that vibe. It was all wishful thinking, like it usually was for Tsumugi in any situation. Just the fiction she loved so much.

“Well, if you two are cool with it, please don’t let plain old me stop you.”

“Something like this is nothing for Mookie,” Junko bragged. “She knows me better than I know myself.”

Mukuro reached around Junko’s neck to undo her long tie. That granted a better view of the deep valley of her cleavage. The next move outdid that. By undoing the buttons of Junko’s outfit with just as much familiarity and experience as Tsumugi had behind that bar counter. There was no mistaking how fast she went, and the way Junko leaned in to every motion to make it go smoothly.

Junko didn’t even blush when Mukuro pulled off her shirt, revealing that frilly black bra. Which struggled to contain her huge, pillowy chest. Such a wealth of creamy, pale skin was on display, and every bit of it was flawless. No bumps or marks marred her skin. Her figure was trimmed, with a flat stomach and athletic, strong arms and legs, but also featured as much softness as possible. An excellent mixture, that was obvious thanks to her clothing choices, but really shined when she was laid bare.

Mukuro herself was muscular, strong, and toned. Tsumugi was on the other end of the spectrum. Soft all over, thick, wide. What was the term, a bit ‘plump’? Those two sides had their own appeal and market shares. Tsumugi was living proof that a size zero waistline wasn’t necessary to get popular anymore.

However, Junko was the happy middle ground. The place where most guys, and some certain girls on this island, would be looking to as the ideal of attractiveness.

Mukuro wasn’t done with her sister, despite leaving her topless before Tsumugi’s hungry gaze. She’d saved the best for last. She unhooked the tiny pink skirt and removed it, leaving Junko in nothing but her trendy hair pins, black bra, and a pair of tiny black panties. That was it.

She still sat with her legs crossed, looking out like a queen on everything that surrounded her. Taking it all in without even a hint of alarm. Thick, bare thighs squished against the couch, forcing its partial to deform around her curves and crushing it slightly beneath her plush rear end.

There was nothing to do but stare, and try to take in the details. Tsumugi wanted to burn this sight into her memory. Even then, when things were heating up and her heart thundered against her own chest, she was certain she’d never see something like this again as long as she lived.

Which turned out to be a very poor prediction. Fortunately.

She was being given access to some sort of confidential secret. A way of looking at Junko Enoshima that very few people ever earned. She did swimsuit issues and other revealing modelling, of course. She’d even demonstrated that aspect of her talent during the beach party earlier. But as Tsumugi told Shuichi, swimsuits existed to be seen. The difference, and why Tsumugi's fellow otaku valued the pantyshot so highly, was that underwear was intensely private.

It was a total violation of somebody to see them in their underwear. A transgressive act.

Tsumugi’s brain was working overtime. Her thighs clenched together. She felt a spike of pure arousal. She was being given this view, and Mukuro was so prepared to give it. So familiar with Junko, and the sisters were so close. They didn’t think anything of removing each others’ clothing. How intimate and deep their bond must have been.

Fuck. In her attempts to tease Junko, Tsumugi was the one who ended up getting turned on, and baited.

She downed her entire glass of sake, before going back for more. She needed to be more drunk than she currently was, if she was going to work up the liquid courage to take advantage of this situation.

“I’m glad you like the show, Moogs~ Now it’s Mookie’s turn, though.”

What hidden depths were lurking within Mukuro, that she could so calmly strip her own sister and check her out shamelessly in the process? Or was Tsumugi just projecting, on that one? What would she do to exert her own free will-

“Mookie, I think you should pick me.”

It was a rigged game.

Any game with Junko Enoshima was rigged from the start.

“Junko, truth or dare?”

“Dare me to worship your wonderful bod~”

Mukuro fired a Consent bullet at record speed. “Please do.”

Tsumugi would have been more bothered by the obvious set-up of this conspiracy. If the result wasn’t actually, literally, dead-on, bullseye, her deepest darkest, most shameful fetish come to life before her eyes. Every other concern, even her own shyness and social awkwardness, faded into the background.

These ladies were not playing around. Just as Mukuro showed no hesitation earlier, Junko sprung to her feet. Striding nearly-naked around the coffee table, with her wide, child-bearing hips swaying from side to side in an exaggerated runway walk. Without that miniskirt, the size and firm tone of her ass was on display. “Make sure to show me who’s boss, Mookie.”

“Understood.” Mukuro undid her white button-up, opening it up and exposing her chest and belly. She wasn’t very gifted up there. At least not anymore. One look at her bare body made it clear that she’d burned off everything that wouldn’t help her survive, and defeat the enemy. Soft curves were removed by what had to be rigorous training, replaced with rock-hard six-pack abs and an athletic physique.

Junko fell to her knees, moving forward, until she could plant kisses on Mukuro’s abs. A trail of fresh lipstick formed the proof of this, trailing downwards across her belly. The Ultimate Soldier, who seemed so steady and stoic, couldn’t help the rise and fall of her chest as she reveled in the rush of dominating Junko for once.

Even if it was under Junko’s direct orders.

Tsumugi was merely watching, and she could barely contain her arousal, wiggling in her seat. To actually have that tongue running up and down her body? Appreciating her muscle tone and bits of remaining softness with equal vigor? Even a girl who tried to act like a robot would and did react well.

“Wow…” Tsumugi murmured. “You two really don’t have any boundaries, do you?”

“Nooot really,” Junko admitted, kissing and suckling Mukuro’s abs, while reaching up to mess with her sister’s skirt and pull it down.

Then, right in front of the awestruck Ultimate Cosplayer, she ate out her sister.

Mukuro, normally so strong and stoic, had to sit back down. Her knees gave out within seconds. Junko pleasured her like she’d been doing this exact thing for years, and Tsumugi’s heart and mind raced as she watched this show unfold. Her own arousal was beyond any words.

Her darkest fantasies had all come to life in the form of these women, Junko and Mukuro. Mukuro’s calm voice filled the cavernous Lab, as she cried out in response to her sister’s loving efforts. Junko’s hair and Mukuro’s thighs blocked their audience from seeing the act, but its effects were quick and obvious.

Tsumugi’s own hand ran down her thick thigh, then back up it, and finally underneath her skirt. She felt the sticky warmth of overflowing arousal, which had already soaked her own black panties completely. Her inner thighs were slick, and making a mess. She hadn’t even gotten started. Well, she did tend to be a messy girl. Even when she had to resort to getting herself off, like usual.

With this kind of fantasy unfolding before her wide, slate-grey eyes, Tsumugi was helpless, swept along in the living storm that was Junko Enoshima.

Their little battle of wits was over almost as quickly as it started.

“Well. I wasn’t expecting it to be that simple, but that’s fine. Moogs, I’ll take this as you wishing you could get in on this action. Lucky for you, it’s my turn, and I’ll pick, hmmm. You.”

Tsumugi froze up, hand down her own panties, like she’d been caught taking the last cookie from a jar, rather than touching herself to the sight of two sisters going at it.

There was no way to deny. No way to play it cool. No way to deflect, or make light of the situation, or any of the many survival tactics that Tsumugi had learned to cover her unique proclivities, hobbies, and interests.

She was caught out in the open.

“Truth, or dare?~”

Tsumugi swallowed a lump down her throat. “D-Dare. Please.”

“Alrighty! So, what happens now depends totally on you. I’ve got two orders prepared in my mind. The first order is for if you’re ready to become mine, just like Mookie is. The other order is if you’re not ready for that yet.”

Whatever shreds of willpower or decency were left in Tsumugi Shirogane were swept away. She was too tipsy, horny, and frightened to say anything but the honest truth. “I’ll be yours, Junko.”

The Ultimate Fashionista blessed her with a smile. “I can’t promise what the future will hold, Moogs. Or whether or not this is like, the best choice for you. I can be a handful, but I’ll also do my best to take care of my lovely girls. I will promise you one thing, though. It won’t be boring. I only surround myself with interesting stuff.”

Tsumugi nodded. “T-Then, maybe I shouldn’t…”

“So! As of this moment, you are forbidden from calling yourself ‘plain’, or using that dumbass speech tic. If you are mine, then you are fucking beautiful, wonderful, interesting, and downright ultra perf. Understood?”

There was only one possible answer. “Yes, Junko.”

“Great! So with that out of the way, get over here. Eat me out until I cum, and the deal is super mega sealed.”

What a plainly simple dare.

Oh, dangit! This was going to take some serious getting used to.

The prospect would have been frightening and overwhelming. If Tsumugi was in her ‘right’ frame of mind. Even now, she could barely move. A displeased Junko was not something she needed to experience, though. No, giving her pleasure, and getting it in return perhaps, was the right move.

Tsumugi took uncertain steps over towards Junko, who reclined in her chair, spread her legs, and waited. Tsumugi fell to her knees before Junko, in adoration and naked lust. She carefully removed and pocketed her glasses, first off, knowing they might not survive what was to come all over her face.

When she was close enough, Tsumugi was surrounded by Junko’s long, strong legs. Her world was reduced to Junko’s thighs. The firm, strong, wide cushions clamped onto either side of her head. They were large enough to block everything in her vision, except what was right ahead.

Junko’s frilly black thong. Tsumugi had to push it aside with just her tongue. Slipping even a finger past Junko’s legs, while they were clamped on like a boa constrictor, was impossible. Tsumugi tasted the texture of her underwear, and the skin beneath, shaved smooth of even in the slightest hints of hair. She smelled the musk of Junko’s arousal. A more natural, and primal, smell than her usual mix of fashion products.

Tsumugi had no trouble figuring out what to do, to drive Junko even more crazy. Just because she was giving up didn’t mean she couldn’t get her licks in. Maybe she would even get to see Junko in a more vulnerable state. It would only be fair.

Her tongue lapped up a new taste as she probed and prodded Junko, and provoked a wave of shudders running through the Ultimate Fashionista. While Tsumugi’s ears were clamped shut by warm, if firm, cushions, the vibrations of her voice translated fine, as did the way she tensed up and twitched in pleasure as Tsumugi went to work.

There was immeasurable satisfaction in even the idea of getting through Junko’s tough, invulnerable shell, and licking through to her core. That was the mental image Tsumugi used, and she was far from delicate or gentle with Junko. Once she got a feel for it, her tongue went deep, as deep as possible, and she felt how tight Junko was.

Even a finger would have a tough time with those warm, moist inner walls, and how tightly they squeezed. Much less anything else. Even Junko’s body had trouble relinquishing control, or letting anyone inside.

Tsumugi’s tongue had to work around, and find a way to get deeper in stages, loosening up a ton of tension in Junko’s whole body, only to cause more the next moment from a new rush of pleasure.

Time didn’t exist for Tsumugi down there.

She wouldn’t be be released until she finished her task. There were times Junko’s legs tightened up like a vice around her head, and it hurt. That just added a new spice to the rush of sensations. Pleasure and pain mixed around, getting confused, just like how she never knew quite how to feel around Junko. Except for hopelessly aroused.

Her hands were totally free, and Tsumugi’s own body ached with need. One hand went up to her own massive chest, undoing buttons until she could fondle herself. Her nipples, already sensitive, caused her to moan right into Junko’s body, which absorbed all the sounds going both ways.

The other hand trailed south, underneath her skirt again.

Her own fingers were poor substitutes for someone else’s tongue. At least it was a source of some relief. Otherwise, the lust shooting through her would drive Tsumugi mad. This whole situation was erotic, even the piercing stare she knew she was getting from Mukuro. Passionate? Jealous, even? The freckled black-haired girl could see so much, while Tsumugi didn’t get to see a thing. Junko was like a living blindfold, clouding her vision, and demanding all her attention and focus.

All she could do was service Junko with her mouth, pleasuring her and sending waves of tension and jolts of little lightning straight up the taller girl’s spine. While trying to give herself some of that same feeling, without any help from either of the sisters.

Except the potent mental fuel. For an intellectual woman, and a woman of culture, like Tsumugi, that was even better than a full-out display of sexual love between siblings. Well, almost better. The display was the thing that would stick with Tsumugi for many lonely nights to come.

Assuming Junko permitted her to have anything like a lonely night, which was probably doubtful.

The difference between the two of them was simple. Tsumugi didn’t get anywhere near an orgasm by just messing with herself. Usually, she could manage it, if she got a hot enough subject to fantasize about, or some rousing lewd imagery, but it was like even her own body understood that, from this time on, Junko took priority. Until the Queen came, she’d have to wait, building up tension and need between her own plump thighs.

Junko was a messy girl, too. Good to know.

Tsumugi’s only warning that Junko was close to the edge came from those thighs, which tightened up again, and stayed tense, as Juno was wracked with pure pleasure. The vibration of moaning came through as loud and clear as actual noise. Tsumugi barely had time to feel a sense of satisfaction for a job well done, before her mouth was flooded with so much Junko Enoshima, she could barely handle it.

Not expecting it was the big issue. There wasn’t enough to actually literally drown her, it just felt that way, like how Tsumugi’s world wasn’t literally just the space between Junko’s legs. What a potent thought, though. The strong taste which flooded her mouth? the mess it made all over her face and blue outfit, and Junko’s own long legs? The way Junko tightened up her vice grip, before finally relaxing? Amazing. Incredible.

She finally permitted Tsumugi to slide up over the tops of her thighs, as if the Ultimate Cosplayer was emerging from a deep ocean.

Seeing Junko Enoshima, lowkey highkey a goddess, looking spent, pleased, and downright helpless, back down at her, was a miraculous thing for Tsumugi. That flushed expression, the blush across her face, she’d remember it forever. It was a far more interesting thing to Tsumugi than her crying lungs finally getting the full amount they demanded of air, rather than just part of it, filtered through Junko’s musk.

It was just like she said. This was the start of something new.

“This is… totally… gonna be called… the Ultimate Fashion Alliance,” Junko gasped.

It was a relationship unlike any other that would end up forming on this strange tropical paradise. Not because it involved two people of the same gender, oh no. Nor that it involved more than two people, definitely not. It was the speed.

Four days into knowing each other was too fast for most girls to do this sort of stuff. Tsumugi herself, withdrawn and reclusive, couldn’t deny it was sudden.

Junko Enoshima wasn’t born with brakes, though.

So that was that.


	2. 1-6b. Taking out the Trash (Kirumi)

Few people who lived in a society realized how fragile it was.

How thin the line was that seperated civilization from barbarism.

Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid, made it her business to be concerned about logistics.

The silver-haired woman in a spiderweb-patterned white and slate-grey Victorian maid uniform existed for Everybody’s sake.

It was the order of things.

Nearly fifty human beings, living together somewhere, consumed so many resources and services. Not to mention the output. Both consumption and its effects were handled by Usami’s arrangements, so far.

Save for the trash. Sixteen individual bins in each of the three hotels. Four bins per kitchen area. At least one, and sometimes as many as six, cans in each of the first twelve Ultimate Labs.

Everything had to be brought to incinerators and burned. Usami’s rules protected the environment. If the Ultimates weren’t allowed to chop down trees and make a raft, they certainly weren’t allowed to toss their trash wherever they pleased.

Nobody enjoyed living in garbage and filth, anyway. Even if some of the Ultimate university students had grown sadly accustomed to it. The hope of the world deserved better.

Usami offered to handle it.

Kirumi requested she be given trash duty, instead.

Everyone found it difficult to believe she was willing to perform such a task.

In spite of the tall maiden’s elegant, serene appearance, her inner thoughts were a sea of turmoil. She lost memories, just like everyone else. While she couldn’t put her finger on why, she felt like she was stalled out. Spinning her wheels. Like she had something to be doing, something critically important. She just couldn’t remember what.

Kirumi was a person used to constant work and stimulation, being deprived suddenly and completely. Tossed into a sunny, lazy, languid paradise.

She was going to explode unless she did something.

She was a maid without a cause. Until she could return to her employer, everyone on the island could be her masters instead. She would do anything, if it helped Everyone.

Anything.

Chores of this nature, and magnitude, were perfect. Everyone would adapt to island life differently, and find ways to pass the time and stay sane. This was merely hers.

Perhaps Byakuya Togami, Ultimate Affluent Progeny, understood her motives more quickly than anyone else due to his experience with, as he would call them, ‘the help’. He instantly recognized what she was going, and smirked as he explained to the others.

“Dear Kirumi is, in effect, so selfless, she looped right around to selfishness. How pitiful. Normally I wouldn’t care, Sisyphus, but there is a problem with your humble little request. Assuming it isn’t your plan to arrange things in such a _convenient_ manner, hm?~”

Kokichi added, “Well, she _is_ one of the traitors, so it would be a pretty sweet deal for her.”

It would have been so easy to break them.

That wasn’t a thought that crossed Kirumi’s mind because they were bothering her.

Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid, did not experience emotional outbursts and reactions like normal people did. She certainly never permitted them to guide her actions, which were always, strictly, for Everyone’s sake.

Except for this.

Which was a rare _fucking_ exception.

Fuckheads.

While Kokichi was a living bag of burning garbage, Byakuya wasn’t wrong. Kirumi was asking for a great deal of trust. With trash, laundry, and cleaning duty had to come conditional ID access. The ability to get into where people slept and lived. Byakuya merely gave voice to what many Ultimates felt.

Usami could have just handled it and set minds at ease. However, she claimed to be inspired, even awestruck, by Kirumi. Her dedication to service and selfless devotion. That’s what Usami said. Of course, as Kirumi had lived her entire life with such a philosophy, she didn’t see anything remarkable about it.

Kirumi’s Hope Pad could now be granted conditional ID access. Provided nobody was in a room at the time, she could open it. The door would lock again upon her exit.

Miu was fascinated by that, but attempts to experiment with the ID system to find out how it knew when somebody was in a room didn’t yield any useful knowledge. It just proved the system worked as advertised. While that was still useful data, it wasn’t interesting or sensational. So, like all such research data, nobody paid it any mind.

In spite of the safety protocols, six people, Maki, Touko, Kyouko, Chihiro, Nagito, and Kokichi, still failed to grant conditional access. They all had their own reasons. Really, the shocking thing was that everyone else _did_ grant access. Togami included. Both of them. While everyone was a stranger and mistrust was the general rule, Kirumi’s trustworthy, mature attitude clearly meant that people felt they could lean on her.

Kaede was worried everyone would start taking advantage and taking the Ultimate Maid for granted. Kirumi herself didn’t mind that. It was the order of things, regardless of whether somebody said ‘thank you’ to her along the way.

Something _did_ bother her, though. Once she took the lead on trash and laundry duty, she received a few offers of help. The trust she gained could be misused badly, in the wrong hands.

_“Miss Kirumi Tojo! I cannot watch you labor so hard any longer! Please, allow me to share your burdens, and help out with the trash duty.”_

Like this pair of greasy, sweaty, admittedly-artistically-brilliant hands.

Hands belonging to Hifumi Yamada, the Ultimate Doujin Artist, stopped her in the midst of her attending to Class 1’s trash, to forcefully make his offer. The entirely round, bulbous, puffed-up topheavy man had a rare look of determination. His necktie went flying as he pointed at her, going straight up like his slicked-up spike of black hair.

No doubt all that was from the high spiritual energy he kept claiming to have.

_Tch._

Kirumi was a keen observer of people, as one of the Ultimate Maid’s primary talents was in helping her employers realize their potential.

The first two enlistees on Cleaning Detail were more than enough help. Well, Kirumi could have done it single-handedly. She didn’t mind taking those two along, and enjoying their friendly, helpful company. They were the white-haired boys, Nagito Komaeda, Ultimate Lucky Student, and K1-B0, Ultimate Robot.

Both were unfairly cute males.

Both struggled with low self-esteem.

Those two facts were, in all likelihood, related, as they shared that fact with Shuichi, as well. Makoto wasn’t the most confident male around, either. Hmm.

Nagito expressed his low opinion of himself with extreme self-deprecation, while Kiibo developed an understandable, but overactive, victimhood. However, they both wanted to be of use to others badly. They too felt idle and even guilty about their idleness on this peaceful vacation resort, as the days ticked by and no more massive crises came around.

In fact, the work might do them some good, just like with her. Perhaps it would even help them become more confident in themselves. She had no reason to refuse.

Unlike with the other recent volunteer, her own Class 53’s largest member, usually-gentle giant Gonta Gokuhara.

The Ultimate Entomologist was a muscular wild-man who spoke in broken Japanese. His green hair was eternally messy and long. Yet he earned great scores on every test that had its cultural relevance corrected for, and focused purely on the material. He was, to be blunt, one of the relatively few Ultimates who would have made the entrance exams of a top, world-class university such as Harvard, Yale, or Hope’s Peak, even without the Ultimate talent and sensational story making him a shoe-in to be scouted.

He had a great mind and an all-loving personality. His warm kindness was such that he even refused to tolerate harm against lowly bugs, which could have been where he developed his fascination with them in the first place. To a certain perspective, they were the smallest, most vulnerable things to protect. One foot put wrong from a human could end them, whereas for most bugs, the worst they did to people was to mildly annoy.

It was not, in fact, fair, but neither was the world. Kirumi had to gently, firmly decline his offer after just a short trial run.

His enthusiasm did not match up with cleaning ability. In fact, it was a direct menace to that. In just a few hours, the wild man created more messes than he solved, and damaged so much property in the process that a flustered Usami threatened to shut down the whole trash program prematurely.

All thanks to Kokichi and Hiyoko taunting Gonta about bugs.

Goddamn _nightmare children_ in need of _discipline_.

For Everyone’s sake.

Gonta deserved better. He was a truly sweet boy and a kind soul, when one looked past his intimidating frame and incredible power. That power was just better used in other ways. Or no way, at all, preferably.

She would stick with Nagito and Kiibo.

Neither of whom were likely to destroy the island, or kill anyone.

Now, the latest candidate, Hifumi, stood before her to be judged. The artist wasn’t dangerous in that way. Certainly not. Everybody with two working legs would have no trouble outrunning the portly, out of shape otaku. But in other ways, he presented his own danger.

Unlike the red-eyed, glasses-wearing giant, Kirumi saw few admirable traits lurking within Hifumi. Kirumi would have expected the sky to fall before a selfless offer of help came from him.

Even the always-sharp Ultimate Maid needed a moment to process. “You wish to join the trash detail, Master Yamada?”

“Yes indeed!” He proclaimed, shouting towards the heavens rather than the person he was talking to. “I couldn’t stand to see you burdened with so much work by all these ingrates, Miss Kirumi Tojo!”

How noble.

What was his real objective?

“I have already relied too much upon the kindness of Masters Komaeda and Kiibo, so please, you needn’t worry at all for me, great honored sir.”

Maybe if she spoke enough like a subservient little maido from one of his Japanese Animes, and used enough honorifics, he would get excited and go back to his bunk for various reasons. While that mental image was not a pleasant one, it would leave Kirumi free to leave as fast as her long, strong legs could elegantly walk.

Very fast.

“Nonsense! Please, I can at least help you out! You should rely on the power of friendship in tough times like these.”

Kirumi shook his head. “But what of Mistress Ludenberg? Does she not already rely on you so much to help her, and to work at the casino?”

“Uhu. Mistress was the reason I dared not volunteer before now. But I finally gained her permission to take time off and do this. _It is amazing what begging a woman can achieve!”_

Please don’t look so proud as you say that.

Who needed anyone’s permission to stop doing a volunteer job, anyhow?

“Hm? Oh, I wondered who was making all this noise so early.” Kiibo, with a cart of trash trailing behind him, walked up. “Good morning, Hifumi. Kirumi, I’ve collected the detritus as directed from Class 53.”

Nagito arrived mere moments later. For however much he took it easy and had a relaxed personality, his work ethic was admirable. When he set his mind to a task, he demolished it nearly as fast as Kirumi herself might. “I don’t even feel worthy to get the trash from the Ultimates of my Class 2, I should be in this bin instead. But, well, here it all is.”

Kirumi nodded. “Excellent work, masters. Master Hifumi, as you can see, we’re nearly done already for today. All that remains is sorting and burning the trash properly, for which we can use your own class’s incinerator.”

“Gh!” Hifumi recoiled, scrunching up his face in frustration as he raised a fist. “Defeated by somebody being actually diligent in this languid, salacious paradise! Most unexpected.”

“Forgive me if I overstep the bounds of my service, but might I be allowed to ask why you wish to help?” Kirumi inquired cooly, as the trash detail rolled their large bins towards the hotel, and around back towards the incinerator.

“Does a man need a reason to help his fellows?!” Hifumi demanded, energized.

“Need, no.” Nagito replied. While Kiibo was huffing and puffing from the exertion, in spite of being a robotic being, Kirumi and Nagito managed their own burdens excellently.

Did Kiibo really breathe, or was the rise and fall of his armored chest, and the drip of oil-black sweat on his sheet-white faceplate, an animation to express his fatigue? How did a robot become tired? Well, he did say when he agreed to do this work that for safety reasons, his creator, Professor Idabashi, had set his physical strength equivalent to that of the average senior citizen.

“In my experience, though, somebody who acts very kind usually has another motive for it. Not always, of course,” Nagito added. He wrestled his trash bin into place over the open maw of the incinerator, and tipped it over, sending a slurry of all sorts of trash to its execution chamber. “But usually.”

“Humans are social animals by nature,” Kirumi pondered. “In a way, the good feeling one gets for helping the group, or being kind to others, is selfish. But it is also selfless. Just like this work. Master Hifumi, we’re doing this more to have something to do, to be blunt, than because it is strictly necessary.”

“Usami could be doing all this with a wave of that highly unscientific wand,” Kiibo observed, waiting for his turn before groaning as he dumped his trash bin next. “Nnngh. I am now somewhat confused about human interaction, though. An observation is not matching my logic parameters, and I would like to ask about it.”

“What’s up, Kiibo?” Nagito asked.

“Why is Hifumi volunteering a bad thing? Why are you two hesitant about it?” The Ultimate Robot had learned how to read the room better than the Ultimate Doujin Artist. Or rather, they were both tactless in different ways, but at least Kiibo could pick up on social signals.

“E-Eh?! I w-would like to know this, as well! That could be considered quite insulting, like a slap in my face!”

“As you may know,” Kirumi said, unruffled as she lifted her own trash up last, and filled the class incinerator. “To complete my chores, I am given access to nearly every cabin on the island.” She glanced over towards Nagito. “Are you sure I cannot persuade you to change your mind, Mister Komaeda?”

“It’s not like I don’t trust you,” Nagito explained, hands up in a placating gesture. “I just don’t want any Ultimate to trouble themselves on my worthless behalf.”

This belief of Nagito’s clearly went beyond empty self-deprecating words. He lived his own code, perhaps even believing too in the order of things. Kirumi could have nothing but respect for that.

The Ultimate Maid closed the metal lid of the incinerator. She hit the button, and heard flames leap and dance. It was a wonderful sound, cleansing. Even the thick black smoke coming out of the smokestack up top was a design that everything was going as expected, and soon there would be nothing left out of all that garbage.

“That too is an illogical stance, but I’ve already learned better than to question it,” Kiibo shrugged, arms spread wide as he rolled his eyes. “But surely, if Hifumi helps us, it is only to our advantage.”

“The fact that I have the keys to the city, essentially, demonstrates everyone’s trust in me. It is not an ability to give out willy-nilly,” Kirumi said. “That is not to imply a personal bias against you, Master Yamada. I have nothing but respect for your artistic talents, and am even willing to admit your honest desire to be of use. However, we must be selective.”

“If Hifumi’s one of the traitors,” Nagito said, discussing this possibility as cheerfully as he might talk about the weather, “He could hatch a plot to kill somebody. Trash duty would get around the two major obstacles; the nightly guard detail, and the cabin locks.”

“T-T-T-Traitor?! Meeeee?!”

Kirumi shook his head. “Please, Master Yamada. Nobody here would accuse you of anything like that. It was merely an example of why we wish to keep this low-key. My own concern is more about the fact that we will, necessarily, be entering the cabins of many of the ladies on the island. In fact, you may end up alone in them, with their possessions. Or even while they sleep.”

A slight exaggeration, but the reaction to it was very telling.

“O-Oh really? I hadn’t even thought about that,” Hifumi replied, sweating more copiously than usual. “Hahaha. I guess you’re right, though! It would be a very necessary duty to… be around all that girl stuff. _Ehe._ ” His face was shadowed and he produced a very catlike grin as he stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Couldn’t be helped, right?”

“That’s why we’re worried, Kiibo,” Nagito said in an aside to the other white-haired boy, smiling ruefully.

“Wait, you mean there was an ulterior motive to your offer?!” Kiibo was always astounded in a very boyish way that something was not exactly how it appeared to be.

“No!” Hifumi yelled back. “You’ve got that wrong! It’s impossible for me to creep on any of the girls here, which means you should trust me implicitly.”

“Impossible? That’s a strong claim,” Kiibo said, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I can guess,” Nagito sighed.

“That’s right, Master Komaeda. You researched your fellow prospective Ultimates before coming to HPA! You know of my true devotion, my only love in this world. It might be embarrassing, but I’ll let my flag fly high! I’ll say it loud, and I’ll say it proud! **I! LOVE! 2D!”** Hifumi proclaimed, doing his best to go Super Saiyan with no actual power. _**“And thus! I have no need for 3DPD!”**_

There was a moment of pure astonished silence.

Then Kirumi fixed him with a withering glare.

“If you’re done, Master Yamada, please excuse us.”

“Eeee! That was my big moment, and you no-sold it! How cruel! How heartless! How exciting… heh heh...”

Kiibo rolled his cybernetic teal eyes. “This too is a valuable lesson about humanity. I suppose. Let’s go.”

Nagito, of all people, put up a hand. “Hang on, guys. I mean, shouldn’t we at least consider the possibility that he’s not kidding around?”

Kirumi shook her head. “Whether or not Master Yamada is being serious, I am as well. We don’t require any more help. But thank you for your offer, Master.”

Nagito shook his head. “We can make all the jokes we like, and oh boy, can we. At the end of the day, Hifumi is still an Ultimate, which means he’s a leading light of this fallen world. Right?”

Silence.

Hifumi finally had to agree with Nagito’s point out of injured pride. “T-That’s right! What I create is true art! And rather profitable art, too. My old high school profited immensely from a partnership with me, just as you will!”

“How is there any percentage for profits in this endeavor?” Kiibo asked sardonically.

 _“I haven’t figured that out yet!”_ Hifumi yelled. “Okay, look, I really do just want to help. I feel bad because, well. Let’s face facts. I probably generate more trash than nearly anyone else, per day. Come on, Kirumi! What if I Request that you let me board the Trash Train?”

Kirumi sighed deeply.

Actually, this was another reason why Kirumi agreed to work with others, even though her Ultimate Maid instincts were screaming that she should take on all the work herself. She also knew another part of her service-oriented nature was that Kriumi couldn’t refuse any Request from a master or mistress.

Except those which were physically impossible, such as a request she once received to annihilate a rival nation. It’s important to note that Kirumi didn’t decline this request on moral grounds, but merely that it was impractical.

In any case, Nagito and Kiibo could just counteract Hifumi’s Request with their own. In that manner, much like a robot working through the Three Laws of Robotics that Kiibo oddly wasn’t even equipped with, she could choose which ‘conflicting order’ she would obey.

All either of the white-haired boys had to say was that they disagreed.

Any moment.

Kirumi looked over towards them, and saw Kiibo looking conflicted, while Nagito had a big grin.

Oh no.

“We gave Gonta a trial run,” Kiibo pointed out, thoughtfully. “Would it not be unfair to deny Hifumi the same thing? Nagito is not wrong. It is possible that Hifumi is just poorly expressing a real desire to help, and we are prejudging him. I have often been the victim of prejudice, so I can sympathize with not even getting a chance.”

“He _is_ an Ultimate, and who is a doormat like me to really disagree with him?” Nagito asked helplessly.

Kirumi was an Ultimate too, you _traitor-_

As the Ultimate Maid, she would never have said that, or done something as unseemly as vent her own personal feelings, or allow them to affect anything ever. Perish the very thought. She merely folded her arms, took a deep breath, and turned around. “Very well. Today you may assist me, Master Yamada. We’ll see how you take to manual labor.”

Surely, the fat pig would grow exhausted and drop out of the program on his own.

Or he would reveal his true, unsavory nature. In carefully-crafted scenarios Kirumi would set up to make him think he was all-alone.

Temptation that a normal boy would have trouble with, much less somebody who wallowed so openly in all the most base impulses and selfish, vulgar pleasures.

Or would, if he could ever get a date.

Surely, that was the source of his own ‘principles’, and he didn’t actually, legitimately have some kind of moral philosophy based around anime titty.

Kirumi spent the whole day thinking that, as the Cleaning Detail went about their tasks. Sweeping the public walkways, taking laundry from the day before and doing it in their own cabins, finding litter in the public areas, there was always something to do. Even in an environment that seemed so pristine, somebody always found a way to mess it up without tripping Usami’s alarms.

The three boys on the team took breaks, of course; Kirumi didn’t require them to work to the bone, and Hifumi himself still had a casino to work at.

That just led the Ultimate Maid to wonder why she wasn’t being asked to be part of Celestia’s staff. Perhaps it really was as simple as her desire for an all-male staff of red-eyed vampire boys. That would mean she would, just for instance, not have to feel jealous about being left out of something thought good enough for Hifumi of all people.

Kirumi don't lose sight of her primary task, though. Vetting Hifumi, and making sure he could do things, wouldn’t get tired out and just quit, and most critically, testing his ethics when he thought he was alone.

Character is what you are in the dark.

She, frankly, imagined all sorts of terrible things Hifumi got up to, closed up in his room back home or at the Academy, lit only by the glow of his computer monitor late into the early hours of the morning. Maybe that was all true, maybe he’d even admit to it, if she could ask him about such things. However, here, on the island, where Kirumi could keep watch on him without his notice?

Nothing.

He just did the job he agreed to do, the cleaning and laundry tasks in each room, and then left. Boy, or girl, attractive, or plain. Kirumi tested with a range, scaling from Teruteru, up through Nekomaru, and finally, reaching the attractive girl types she was really concerned about.

Mahiru was pretty, but had a normal, down-to-earth vibe. Nothing.

Chiaki had various _qualities_ a boy might admire. Nothing.

Sayaka was the real test. An international pop sensation? Nothing.

Kirumi wanted to test Hiyoko’s room first, because confirming whether _that_ would become an _issue_ was the most critical task of all. It would be the immediate pass-fail condition. Perhaps even the indicator of whether or not he would pass on to the next life. If she did it first, it might seem like an obvious test.

So, she saved Hiyoko for the very last task, far past sunset.

Nothing. Thankfully.

Could it be true? Could it be legitimate? Neither Kiibo, nor Nagito, her two trusted assistants, reported anything that Hifumi actually did was out of bounds. Of course, he acted like a creeper, but was that the extent of it? Was he really such a gutless guy that he didn’t even take being a pervert seriously-

Kirumi realized, just then, that she might have been a little, uh biased.

Tiny bit.

If she couldn’t take ‘no sign of anything bad’ as, in fact, a good sign. She wasn’t, and couldn’t, steal Shuichi’s job and become the Ultimate Detective. Nor could her pride allow her to ask for his help with this investigation. She was the one who started this whole thing. She would be the one to watch over her subject, and make sure the only things that got done with this conditional access were cleaning and laundry.

Hifumi started out very nervous. He probably suspected scrutiny. Over the hours, though, he relaxed into his new role. The portly man showed an amazing amount of spirit and gusto. He tired easily, being big and fat, and complained liberally. Enough to get even the mild-mannered Nagito looking vacant-eyed and frustrated. Yet, he did all he was told, and more.

When Kirumi finally found herself saying “good job” after he did something, and he reacted like she was a goddess granting him salvation, well.

She’d decided to give it another day.

Several times in a row, until even Kirumi herself couldn't possibly justify the scrutiny.

Days went by, the Cleaning Detail kept rolling along with now four moving parts, each doing their best to keep the island clean. There were no incidents, no complaints, and really, few people ever even noticed what they did except when a room got especially bad or some trash can was near overflowing.

It just became a normal part of the island, and so did Hifumi Yamada, diligent cleaner and trashman.

Not the kind of trashman Kirumi had pegged him for, but, well.

Even the Ultimate Maid could admit when she’d been wrong.

It was such a rarity, why not treasure the feeling?

One woman's pig garbage trash was another woman's strange but reliable friend.


	3. 1-6c. Humanity is Beautiful (Korekiyo)

**Humanity Observation Journal**  
**Thursday, Day 5 of the New Age of the Ultimates**

 **Evening**  
The **Black Hats** were generous enough to allow me to sit in on **Angie’s** post-dinner religious ceremony in the Class 53 Restaurant area. I took a seat near the side of the room and did my best to be invisible.

 **Ceremony Duration:** It was to begin _‘at sundown’_ or thereabouts. Really, it occurred before that, and ran during sundown, but it was night by the end. **76 minutes** total, concluding at **2016 Hours** (eight-sixteen o’clock PM)  
**Leadership:** _**Angie Yonaga** *******_ (Ultimate Artist) most certainly. Shuichi Saihara (Ultimate Detective) is the nominal leader of this group, but nominal is the key word. Well, he tries. Angie is a strong personality, though, and Shuichi is gloriously weak.  
**Participants** : _**Chihiro Fujisaki**_ _ ********_ (Ultimate Beautiful Programmer), **Mikan Tsumiki**** (Ultimate Nurse), **Aoi Asahina**** (Ultimate Swimming Pro), Tenko Chabashira* (Ultimate Fictional Aikido Master), Himiko Yumeno* (Ultimate Lazy Magician), Touko Fukawa* (Ultimate Misanthropic Writing Prodigy), Teruteru Hanamura (Ultimate Cook), Nagito Komaeda (Ultimate Lucky Student), _**Mahiru Koizumi*****_ (Ultimate Responsible Photographer), Hiyoko Saionji* (Ultimate Loli Traditional Dancer), Kazuichi Souda (Ultimate Mechanic), _**Kaede Akamatsu******_ (Ultimate Pianist)  
Turnout was reportedly more than expected, although some could have been, like me, merely here to observe. Angie welcomed all with open arms in a spirit of open friendship. Quite admirable.

Difficulties were had due to the Black Hats’ dumb muscle, **Misandrist And Somehow It’s Supposed To Be Funny Tenko**. Well, this time she may have had a point. Angrily accused several of the ‘menaces’ of being here only to pick up girls or ‘angle in’ on them. **Teruteru** seems a shoe-in for that, and **Kazuichi** did not have the look of a man with a clear conscience.

Really, who cares? As long as they didn’t interrupt the service with rude commentary like **Spoiled Child Hiyoko** and **Smelly Angry Misanthrope Touko** did. Speaking of, those two were the other main source of difficulty. **Responsible Mahiru** did her best to control their behavior, particularly with Hiyoko. Their evolving sisterly dynamic, especially in light of Hiyoko’s obvious and pathetic lesbian crush, is truly beautiful. I also note that Mahiru seems to be more intent on helping Hiyoko to curb her nasty impulses, after beautiful, sweet, strong **Ideal Optimist Kaede** brought it up at the last progress gate meeting.

What an admirable girl, she will make an excellent mother one day.

Am I referring to Kaede, or Mahiru there? The answer is yes. Most particularly, Kaede’s strength of character and assertive nature are to be admired. She looks after Shuichi and tries to help him become more confident, exposing her inner kindness. While I am trying to hold myself to objective standards, well. If she submits herself for the upcoming election, whose procedure is to be determined on Friday, I may have no choice but to vote for her with all of my heart.

When she saw that I was attending the event, even as just an observer, Kaede cheerfully greeted me. I think we’re really building a personal rapport, and she even was kind enough to consider me…

**A Friend.**

Sister is _delighted_ with her.

Nobody yet has reached five stars on this island. But in the span of mere days, some of these admirable girls have already gotten to the four-star range. Such _progression_ is almost unheard of.

Oh me, oh my, how wonderful.

How _beautiful_.

Show me even more beauty, humanity. Show me even more to admire, even more to record meticulously, and remember, and treasure forever.

On the other end of the spectrum, we had the most quiet observers. **Angelic Chihiro** said barely a word. However, she was listening intently, taking in Angie’s sermon, and I even believe she appeared troubled, or contemplative. As she often does, as I’ve been keeping a meticulous record of her expressions every time I see her or we meet. What an unspeakably cute, _fragile_ little creature she is. She might be a logical-minded person, another big plus, but she also didn’t doze off, like **Kazuichi** and **Asahina** did. It is very possible the latter two were here mainly out of friendship obligation bonds. After all, after the ceremony, most of the girls agreed to adjourn to Asahina’s Lab for their group swimming lessons, and notes on that are to follow.

The reader may be shocked to learn that Touko didn’t want to get into a body of water.

_Kukuku._

**Nagito** was helpful in sorting out **Teruteru’s** attempts at sexual harassment. By way of instilling a proper amount of _fear_. He also helped out with any manual labor requirements, and Angie took to bossing him around quite well. I am given to understand that Angie’s island has a social structure based on the religion, and in it, she is extremely high-ranking, if not the most important. For it is said that Atua has a direct connection to her, and she conveys the messages of their god to the faithful. What an unspeakably powerful position in society to hold. One would expect that responsibility would either crush a person, or lead to them becoming spoiled and carefree, as though the world is their oyster. Angie is the latter. And pretty cute, it must be admitted.

 **The Ceremony** itself was much like a wide range of more conventional religious services. I would compare it most in nature to, of all things, a Christian service, perhaps something from the Catholics. I make that analogy most specifically because of the nature of ‘removed service’ or levels and tiers, whereas in some Protestant branches, ‘everyone is a priest’ or can be. Angie did not emphasize or even mention a ‘personal connection to Atua’, instead speaking of his will, his plans for others, etc.

If I was the personal conduit of a god, I too might not wish to give away access to the font of all my power quite so easily.

I would give a considerable fortune to know the origin of Angie’s religion. When it started on her island, and from what source. Remarks she made before and during the service strongly suggest foreign influences at some point. Then again, I cannot decipher some of what she says about it, so I’m going to not record specific lines or puzzle over them. To be blunt, trying to figure out Angie, or anything about her, invites true madness.

Really, it reminds me more of my observations of the Vataru people last spring _(possibly years back, given the memory issues already noted)_. It’s not just the ‘pacific island’ connection, although there are certainly ways in which culture and religion are shaped profoundly by being on an island in the middle of what seems to be nowhere. Surrounded on all sides, as far as the eye can see, by blue. Nothing but the devil, and the deep blue sea.

Rather like our own current situation, isn’t it? I simply cannot wait to see the ways that this burgeoning little mini-society evolves in reaction to our unique conditions.

I’m obviously not sticking purely to anything resembling a scientific methodology, or professionalism, in these journals anyway. So I may as well record all that I’m thinking here. Particularly, well. I’ve always sought out religious services and information about them, aside from my general proclivity towards the humanities since I was young, due to Sister.

 _Sister, are you still there in some form? Are you around me, or watching me, and I just can’t see you?_ I remember having such questions, until I found the real truth. Even now, I must speculate. Where did your shell go, besides the way of all flesh? Where did that other you go? Are you watching me from somewhere even now?

It does often feel like I have eyes on my back, even when Sister and I are otherwise alone.

I think Sister had a great time with the observation, as well. She was _delighted_ to see so many girls who might make great Friends for her one day. Not now, of course. Everyone barely knows each other, truly. It would be far too forward of me.

The current climate, with everyone vigilant against attackers, would hardly be ideal for making Friends, either.

Eventually, though, I have very high hopes. There are unsuitable girls around, of course. Unsightly one-star trash, as there is anywhere. Yet there exists so much positivity, so much brilliant strength and beautiful weakness. Both can be amazing, both can be useful. Both can embody the true nature of, as Nagito might say…

_My hope._

**Estimate of Effects**  
_As interesting, or more so, than Angie’s words, is the effect they had on others. I am merely an observer, although I will admit, I’m not exactly ready to go up to the makeshift dining table of an altar and convert._  
**Solid Skeptics (0 Percent Conversion Chances):** Myself, Shuichi, Kaede, Chihiro, _Hiyoko_ , Mahiru, Nagito, Touko, _Aoi, Kazuichi, Teruteru._  
_Cursive names are those who fell asleep, versus listening and disagreeing with the message. Most of the ones here were polite, but there are signals and indicators humans give off when they just don’t buy something, no matter how hard they may work to suppress that reaction, or give it a ‘fair shake’._  
**On the Fence (Nonzero Chance of Conversion)** : Himiko, Tenko, Mikan.  
_While I think they’re wavering a bit more, it could just be their lack of strength and character shining through. I don’t estimate their odds are very high, yet, but they could be swayed in time. Angie certainly isn’t going to give these girls up._  
**Converted** : None, so far.  
_Although I do anticipate, at the rate things are going, a group to form. Perhaps all the Black Hats, emotionally vulnerable in different ways, will end up uniting behind the shield of a single faith. Angie has certainly worked herself into quite a position with them. She posesses a preternatural talent for advancing herself, and identifying weakness in others so that she may make good use of it._

_The situation we now find ourselves in, a totalizing institution where we stay constantly, cut off from the larger world outside, and under threat for our lives, has all the ingredients to make a true, proper cult, right before my very eyes. I am truly privileged to have the opportunities now afforded to me, and I can’t thank my companions enough for allowing me these observations._

Shuichi, you knew to guard against external threats and obvious bad actors, such as Kokichi’s devilry. However, you simply have no idea how to handle a threat that comes bearing kindness and love, do you?

I look forward to seeing your struggles.

If you perform brilliantly enough, and surpass my expectations, who knows? Sister has been known to make a few male Friends in the past, if they were of both exceptional quality… and exceptional cuteness.

After that, as agreed, the Black Hats and a few others adjourned to their swimming lessons in the Ultimate Swimming Pro’s Lab on Third Island. The others drifted off, although Angie personally thanked every single person for attending, and lending their ears. Even against Hiyoko and Touko openly aggressive against, and mocking, her most sacred beliefs, Angie did not buckle even one bit. Kaede intervened, as did Mahiru, trying to prevent what they saw as rudeness and even injustice, how wonderful. This is a wonderful group of girls, yes.

There wasn’t a hint of tensions between Angie and Kaede, even though their interests in various spheres are bound to clash soon. There is no doubt both ladies understand that, even now. They have nothing but smiles for each other. So far. That will also be a conflict I will take true delight in watching unfold before me.

How will you save your weak detective boy’s soul, if it should come to that, Kaede Akamatsu? To what extent will your heart lead you to action? What are you truly capable of? Those values you profess so strongly, Your optimism and hopeful nature. Will it all endure under the threat of a broken heart, on top of all the other stresses of our condition?

If _you_ can endure, then you will truly be an exceptional woman, and a good Friend.

 _Kukuku._  
  
Without any other pressing tasks, I asked, and was given, permission to stay with the Black Hats as they all went swimming. Of course, I wasn’t getting in that water, either. Do you, dear hypothetical reader, know just how _long_ it takes for me to get ready each morning?

To be quite honest, there was nothing approaching the level of personal, or anthropological, interest in the swimming lesson as there was during Angie’s service. To be expected. I did get to watch people, but only in their more normal habits. I can record their progress on learning to swim, though, as well as other important factors.

 **Swimming Progress**  
**Aoi** : Take a guess.  
**Shuichi** : Middling. He managed to avoid drowning, good job there.  
**Angie** : Takes to it like a fish, which is wholly unsurprising. Her lower body has a surprising amount of strength, she can really shoot off down the lanes.  
**Chihiro** : Struggled, as much with having to change out with others as with actually swimming, but she did her best. Definitely improving a bit, even if she is so beautifully weak and cute.  
**Mikan** : Too clumsy for swimming, there were multiple emergencies. What happens when the doctor is the one who nearly drowns? Well, the answer is, she gets tended to by a hopelessly gay aikido master, that’s what.  
**Tenko** : Not doing too well with the water situation, but there’s improvement. She’s leagues ahead of everyone but Hina on the level of physical fitness, of course, so she has natural advantages and very long, strong legs. Shame about when she opens her mouth, of course.  
**Himiko** : About as likely to actually get in the water as me. Why did she bother coming? Just for friendship and companionship? She just sits there, and doesn’t even talk, though. I frankly do not understand the little strawberry.

 **Swimsuit Report**  
**Aoi** : Athletic-style blue competition swimsuit, leotard-style, high-cut. The usual. There’s no way she doesn’t, on some level, understand how good she looks in those. Well, maybe. She is surprisingly innocent, for being so aggressive and liable to threaten to punch somebody.  
**Angie** : Always in her white swimsuit, it’s a cute design, and she fills it well, especially with her pear-shaped body profile. No hesitation about showing skin. In fact, she tried to go without the swimsuit a few times, I’m told, but the others told her off. Cultural norms are such fascinating things, we’re products of a million different factors in our lives.  
**Chihiro** : Just as cute as a button with a long, frilly pink swimsuit, a one-piece, showing as little skin as she could manage. A sarong helps with that, and somehow grants an even more feminine aspect to her.  
**Mikan** : White and pink bikini, it is amazing how close it always is to falling off, even though she keeps securing it, and getting Tenko to help her. Which leaves Tenko a blushing mess, naturally. Can you blame her? Hajime’s word choice truly cannot be beaten. Oatmeal. That’s all, there’s no other word as apt.  
**Tenko** : Loves the color green, a green two-piece bikini, simple design. Seemed to think I was staring at her a lot, but I was, so it’s okay. I’m used to people calling me a creeper for my art. Tenko is, if I have perhaps not covered this enough in previous notes, very busty.  
**Himiko** : She actually changed into her swimsuit, which probably represents some massive grand step forward. A black one-piece, and she kept her hat on, which is fine. It’s kind of a charm point, I’d suspect. Or she may really think it’s tied to her magic. Must ask that next time.

Overall, a fun time. **Chihiro** and **Angie** took quite a while in the locker room by the end, but Chihiro always takes a while and likes to leave last if she can help it, poor thing. Even by the standards of shy girls on the island, she’s probably the most shy.

Ah well. That, too, is a charm point.

Yet another day of our communal life here has passed, and I was able to see some truly lovely, beautiful things. I’m grateful, from the bottom of my heart, for everyone for allowing me to observe, and that I was able to record my notes here thanks to winning this lovely, stylized notebook from Celestia’s casino.

I _may_ run out of paper far before we run out of interesting humans to observe, but that’s an okay problem to have.

Now, to pray with Sister, and then off to bed. Tomorrow is Friday, and things may get even more interesting. What will you have to show us, Usami? What memories will be uncovered? What secrets dug up? What will the Ultimates do in that moment, if it’s some sort of painful or tragic memory? How will they all react to yet more suspense and fear?

I will be there to witness and record. That is my solemn vow.

_This is **Korekiyo Shinguji** , the **Ultimate Anthropologist** , signing off._


	4. 1-7a. The Game Hungers (Togami)

Words couldn’t capture how disappointed Byakuya Togami, the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, was when he opened the door.

He got out of bed, moved across the room, and even deigned to open the door of his cabin. All that, only to be greeted by the sight of a plebian.

No, not even that. Not even a pleb. This was The Pleb. The Ultimate Commoner. As if God had set out to design a person who was, like the computer byte that stored a ‘null’ command, completely zeroed. Eight zeros in a line. Emptiness. Nothing. The void.

Makoto fucking Naegi.

The ‘’’’’’Ultimate’’’’’’’ ‘’’’’’’’’’’’Lucky’’’’’’’’’’’’’’ ‘Student’.

Byakuya wanted a refund for the energy expenditure. Not to mention the seconds of valuable time that were ticking by as he stood there, trying to make this fucker’s head explode with his mind.

“Hey, Byakuya.”

“This had better be important,” Byakuya replied, still glaring.

“Whoa!” Ever the sharp one. Naegi finally noticed the hostility. “I mean, I think it’s kinda important?”

Even the way Naegi talked was custom-tailored to waste as much of Byakuya’s time as possible. The Ultimate Affluent Progeny had endured whole conversations with the green hoodie wearing midget, and gotten nothing back from it. The best thing to do, really, was let him say whatever was on his one brain cell. Get it all over with.

“What is it?”

“I’m worried about you. Everyone’s going to around to check on people, and make sure, you know. That everyone’s okay.” Makoto rubbed the back of his head nervously. “After what we all saw, I mean, anybody would be shook up. You stormed off right after the flashback.”

Ah, yes. Byakuya couldn’t deny that the Ultimate Hunt was the reason he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Well, he couldn’t deny that to himself. He didn’t feel like leaning on this guy’s shoulder and crying, exactly. The vivid rush of terrible memories was a powerful feeling. However, Byakuya Togami had been in worse scrapes before. He always emerged victorious, and he always destroyed his competition. He wasn’t as affected by being a fugitive, like most of the commoners were.

“If you’re concerned I might do something drastic, don’t be.” Byakuya smirked. Who would ever be so pitiful in this world? Maybe some of the ants around him couldn’t bear the weight. He was made of sterner stuff. “I just wish to be alone with my thoughts. There’s so much work to do when we leave this island.”

“Oh man, the Togami Group. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I know that we have our differences-”

The insect was cut off mid-sentence. “Yes, we do. And no, you can’t imagine what I’m feeling. As I told you before, we exist in completely different worlds. We will never see eye-to-eye.” The last thing in this world that Byakuya Togami needed was his sympathy. The tall, thin Ultimate Affluent Progeny seethed with disgusted, fists clenched.

Uncharacteristically, Makoto persisted. “That doesn’t mean we have nothing in common, though! We just went through the same thing. No.It’s more like, we both remembered that we’ve been through it together this whole time. We’re classmates! We’re Ultimates! The Ultimate Hunt’s after all of us together!”

It was true that Togami remembered those things now, although what was real? What was false? He didn’t think any of this could really happen, but even if Usami was telling the truth, there was so much up to interpretation. So much he didn’t understand.

“You know what, Makoto, maybe there is something you can help me with.”

Makoto _had_ to know nothing good was coming. The fact that he went along with this regardless was _proof_ that he deserved all the insults. He was no less of a doormat then that Mikan girl. Even if he would pretend to have some dignity. Letting somebody insult you as they pleased was so pitiful, it reminded him of That girl.

“I don’t think that commoners are always wrong. Far from it. Much like how animals predict weather patterns, normal people have primal intuition. For instance, all that talk about ‘the one percent’ and the ‘ninety-nine percent’? It’s an astute observation on the nature of society.”

“Wow. I never expected _you,_ of all people, to say that.”

“I can’t not speak the truth. It’s undeniable that in this world, there are but a select few winners. Only the chosen can succeed. While it’s possible for them to blunder and waste it, it’s also possible for them to achieve their goals. For the other ninety-nine percent? Their dreams never come true. If they ever had dreams in the first place. They toil every day for survival. Barely scraping by." Byakuya shook his head in affected sympathy for the ants beneath his feet. "I just don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand?”

Byakuya adjusted his glasses, and stared at Makoto, right in his wide, childlike brown eyes. “What meaning is there in a life such as that?”

Makoto took a while to reply. “Some people spend their whole lives trying to figure out the meaning. You’re expecting me to just, like, come up with it? On the spot?”

“If I had to pick a single face to represent the great wad, the moochers, the useless eaters, then yes, Makoto. It’s you. None other. Before I came to this island, I’d never been around one of your kind who wasn’t employed by my family, and forced to bow and scrape for approval. So you can speak to me honestly, where they never could. Tell me how. I can’t understand how you live without hope.”

“Without hope?!” That struck home especially hard. He didn’t look pleased with Byakuya’s armor-piercing question, or his explanation of life. Doubtless, because even he felt the truth of it on some level. “You’re kidding me. That’s really how you look at normal people, too?!”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“No! I’ve got no chance to accomplish my dreams? I don’t even have dreams?! I’ve never once thought like that, in my whole life. You’ve got that all wrong!”

“Perhaps not consciously.” Byakuya tapped his forehead in thought, speculating. “Maybe it’s like a coping mechanism? You just force yourself not to think about it.”

“Hey. Just because my major’s listed as ‘Undecided’ doesn’t mean I have, like, no aspirations! That’s stupid! Just because I haven’t chosen yet, doesn’t mean I never will. Is this the only way you can cheer yourself up? By comparing yourself to other people and looking down on them?”

“It’s like I’m being addressed by the voice of the legion. Every word you say has been said before. Countless times. Such is the limited scope of the ninety-nine percent. I suppose that, too, is a coping mechanism. Better denial than despair, hm?”

“So it’s not just an act. I mean, I guess I should have figured by now, but I thought…”

“What? If we talked enough, you would come to know the ‘real me’? A figure more palatable for your plebeian tastes? More acceptable, more ‘reasonable’, by your own vapid common sense? I told you on the very first day, we will never come to that kind of ‘understanding’. We may as well be different species, Makoto.”

“I thought this might have been from the Ultimate Hunt. Like, that you were blaming everyone, instead of just the people responsible for whatever happened. Everyone reacts differently, so maybe you just needed some space. It’s clear you really think that way, though.”

“How could you possibly know what I think? We are on different levels entirely.”

“Didn’t you know, Byakuya? I’m psychic.”

“... What?!”

“Huh. I thought you’d know that bit by now. Or at least see it coming. Guess I gave you way too much credit.”

How _dare_ the little egg address _him_ in that manner?!

No. Getting more angry would only be rising to his provocation. Thankfully, the twerp was giving up on his mission of ‘goodwill’. He walked away, with his tail between his legs. Leaving Byakuya, most critically, in peace. Hopefully, now that the group had sent somebody to make sure he wasn’t dead, that meant the rest of his day would be a good one.

As in, a day where he only had to spend time with the only people who really mattered in life.

Him.

However, almost as soon as he got back into reading his latest novel from the mansion’s collection, his cabin had another visitor.

One of a far different, and far more acceptable, nature.

This time, he didn’t regret having to pull the door open. He got to look at a beautiful woman. There was always time in the schedule for that. Particularly this one; a silver-haired maiden, tall and shapely, but most importantly, mature in attitude and capable of showing the proper respect and deference to him.

“Ah, Kirumi. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Master Togami.” Kirumi gave him a curtsey, holding up the edges of her long maid skirt. “Please pardon our intrusion.” Ah, yes, she had the two white-haired boys in tow, too. Nagito Komaeda and Kiibo. Plus Hifumi Yamada bringing up the rear. Still alive and kicking in spite of what must have been terminal obesity.

Byakuya’s original theory, that Kirumi formed the Trash Detail just to have a chance to sneak into peoples’ rooms, was probably not valid. He had gone too far in suspecting the diligent, competent servant of that. In fact, he’d gone as close to apologizing to her as he could ever go. Such was the depth of his own regard for the Ultimate Maid. His second theory, that Kirumi wanted a personal harem of attractive males, Celes-style, was shot down the instant the horrifying Hifumi was added to the group. Well, it was possible Kirumi was into that sort, too. Like the drugged-out guitar bitch, and her obscene fascination with his doppelganger. Eh, unlikely. _That_ would have been a bigger reversal of expectations than Makoto having an actual thought.

“Is now a good time for some cleaning?”

Honestly, it wasn’t. Togami really, legitimately just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts, to sort out how he felt among his equals. Himself, and nobody else. However, turning away the perfect maid from a visit was stupid. Especially out of hand, that would be unacceptably impolite towards her. “Interesting timing. I don’t suppose this is just an excuse to check up on me, hm? Makoto was already here. Surely he’s reported in to whatever you’re calling leadership nowadays.”

Kirumi nodded. “Indeed. Makoto said that you were as you’ve always been, to our relief. However, it really is time for us to clean up, if you will permit it.”

Byakuya’s undoing was that he was just too generous to women. Especially the worthy ones. “Very well, but just you. As usual.”

“Aw,” Nagito grinned, the smarmy fluffy bastard. “I promise, that was all just a misunderstanding, Byakuya. Shuichi even said there was no basis for an investigation.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t count and keep track of my own belongings, you psychopath. I know for a fact one of my files went missing, around the time you cleaned my room. So, no more. If you try to enter my cabin, Nagito. For any reason, at any time, from this moment on, I will kill you with my own two hands.”

The other Ultimate Lucky Student wasn’t actual garbage, like he claimed, or like Makoto really was. No, he was a step up on the ladder of life. His actions made it clear what he really was, and revealed the potent cunning beneath all that pointless low-self-esteem talk. Nagito Komaeda was a potential threat, and not to be taken lightly.

Hifumi bristled at this open threat. “For shame, Mister Byakuya Togami! Strong words, coming from a man with such a low power level!”

“Really?” Kiibo shook his head. “My scouter function reads it in excess of nine thousand, at least.”

“What!?! Nine thousand?! There’s no way that can be right! M-Master Kiibo!! Is it possible?! Have you taken the next step forward on the Human Development Track?! This is astonishing indeed.”

“What are you _talking about_ , Hifumi? I merely observed what I-”

“I’m so proud of you. I’m proud to call you ‘friend’. You have gained the power to converse with human beings using the most sacred of all languages! The internet meme!”

Kiibo was rightly flummoxed. _“What?”_

“Remember this well, my robotic compatriot. Ideals. Philosophy. Art. Culture. **They all live and die by the meme!** ”

Baffling. Nobody was even taking his threats seriously anymore. Byakuya could barely form words. _“Those… two… can’t come in either!”_ Even if he sounded more like he was asserting his ownership of a treehouse then teaching a bunch of peons their place in life.

Nagito sighed. “I can take a hint. C’mon, guys, let’s see if Celeste’s okay. Er, I mean, clean her cabin too. Kirumi, see you in a bit.”

“Very well,” She agreed, not ruffled one bit from all the antics, before closing the door. “They really are not so bad, once you get to know them, Master Togami.”

Pfft. “Thank you, Kirumi. I needed that, after all the building stress and tension. In any case, I’ll be reading at my desk if you need anything.”

Kirumi went to work on the room. While Byakuya was not inherently a messy person, he did happen to think that cleaning and tidying a room was beneath him. Because it was. So when something did get messy, or papers from his copious files and folders were spread around, he just left them for her next visit. In fact, you could accuse Byakuya Togami of making messes on purpose, just so she would have a reason to come by more regularly.

Whether not such spurious rumors were true, he knew Kirumi would get it done quickly, not bother him, and provide flawless service. She really deserved the title of Ultimate. Unlike many others on this island. A maid wasn’t some title bestowed at birth, like Princess or Robot. It wasn’t something you were. It was what you did. Day after day, consistent and professional. It was a title that was earned.

Much like his own.

He had gone to battle, and emerged victorious.

While they would never stand on the same level, Byakuya respected Kirumi more than anyone else for her dedication and skill. He had been wrong to suspect her of being anything but a good, and worthy person.

If only she had been born higher, she would be the total package. Beauty, ability, will, strength, and maturity. She was, in short, somebody who deserved his time and attention. One day, when he thought the timing was right, and they had grown close enough. He would formalize the arrangement, and make her certain excellent offers.

Not marriage, of course.

For just as the Togami family had a certain _peculiar tradition_ of inheritance, they had another towards raising children and whether to marry. In fact, the head of the family never took a wife, but instead, had children with exceptional women across the world, for the purposes of developing a talented set of potential heirs.

After which, there could only be one.

Byakuya buried his face into a book, although he barely read a word.

“There. Everything should be according to your specifications.”

“Indeed.” He didn’t even have to look up to confirm that Kirumi had done it perfectly. It was an assumed variable at this point. “Good work as ever.”

‘Thank you. If there is nothing else, I would like to speak with you about something before I take my leave.”

“Hm?” Now, he looked up over the top of his novel. This was new. “Go ahead.”

“This current battle is nothing like the one you are used to fighting. The one you told me of, the last time we spoke. It is a conflict of an entirely different nature. If you approach it like you would your fight to become the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, then _you’ll_ be the one without any hope.”

Byakuya was shocked. He did his best to recover, and put up his usual attitude as a shield. “... Oh, so now you’re the little twink’s friend, too? Say it isn’t so. I can only handle so much disappointment in a given day, Kirumi.”

“I would not presume to call any of my Masters or Mistresses a ‘friend’, and drag them down to my own level. However, Makoto has shown me nothing but respect and consideration. We speak often, and I hold him in high esteem. You have asked me in the past for my analysis of people, to help with your own investigation. Now, I will presume to offer advice unsolicited, just this one time. Makoto Naegi is like the number zero, or the Fool in the Tarot. To underestimate him is a grave miscalculation.”

Byakuya’s world was spinning out of control, he felt like he was going to be ill. “Hm. You think he has ‘unlimited potential’? Come now, Kirumi. This was good for a laugh, but I grow concerned. Are you okay? Has the trauma of the Hunt rattled your strong mind into feebleness?”

“Hardly. I just felt that you needed a different perspective. From somebody who, I am fortunate enough to say, you may hold in some degree of regard. For which I thank you, and the feeling is mutual. However, Makoto’s kindness towards others is unmatched on this island. Not just in words, but in deeds, he works hard on any request he’s given, whether or not he has the ability to do something. He gives, and expects little in return.”

“ _Feh_. Even if that’s true, so what? _Kindness_ and _selflessness_ count for _nothing_ in this world.” He spat the names of those concepts, the ones so cherished by the common folk. “I expected you would know better.”

“I am profoundly sorry to disappoint you, sir. But I will not yield on this point. This battle, the one the Ultimates all face against the Ultimate Hunt and the traitors, is different. We are all in this together, Master Togami. All but two of us. If Monokuma’s threat was even the truth at all. You may be trying to find them, and your files and information might give you countless leads to follow. However, if you disregard the power of emotion, you will catch nothing but despair.” Kirumi bowed again. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, taking up so much of your time, and being so blunt. I will take my leave now.”

_“Tch.”_

Byakuya saw her to the door, with the intent to slam it in her face. He regretted giving in to that childish impulse immediately, though; surely there was a way to patch things up with her, and get her to, most importantly, understand how right he was. He also regretted being at the door for another reason. He caught sight of Miu on the walkway. Chatting up guys. Presumably her favorite non-horizontal pastime, the harlot.

“Can you fuckin’ believe what he… oh, there is he is now!” Miu spotted him and zeroed in like a goggle-wearing, exceptionally busty, loud hawk. “Hey, Toe Jam! Where the _fuck_ do you get off talkin’ to my luck-bitch like that?! _I’m_ the only one who gets to tell him how worthless he is!”

Togami stared at her. This chain of events was spiraling out of his control. A horrifying feeling for a man used to having the world. “You can’t be serious. Even you?! I thought, though you are a crude and vulgar creature, that you at least had a _brain_ in your head, like me!”

Miu’s pink eyes went wide underneath her pair of goggles, which framed her otherwise beautiful, pale face. Really, everything physical about her was such a waste, because if she just lived her life in a different manner… Oh well.

“What.”

Byakuya smirked. “Today is full of revelations. Do you perhaps cling to the illusion that you’re not a slutty bitch-”

“No, not that part,” Miu interrupted him, unforgivably. “I just can’t believe what I heard. How dare you compare me to yourself?!”

Kiibo shook his head. “Miss Miu, please.”

Miu shook her head. “No! I’m not going to take that lying down, darling! Normally I don’t mind _lying back_ and letting a guy _pound the fuck out of me_ , as you’re gonna find out soon enough. But this guy’s a _cockroach_ compared to me! Heavy emphasis on the _cock_!”

“When do you not heavily emphasize that, you slut?”

Hifumi always picked the strangest things to react off of, so he continued with that strong track record. “D-D-Darling?!” The glasses-wearing blob of fat slapped his cheeks. “Another shocking step along the Human Development Track, Kiibo! In fact, you've now managed to surpass me now in some ways... Ehe… hehehehe…”

Nagito covered Kiibo’s ear-equivalents, trying in vain to protect his innocence from the many dangers to it all around them now. Much to the complaint of the robot himself, who wanted to hear what was going on. “I am not some little child, Nagito! Please stop!”

Nagito disregarded that. The two white-haired boys struggled back and forth. In his usual mellow stoner talk, Nagito tried to play peacemaker. “Come on, guys, let’s not do this. Friends shouldn’t fight-”

 _“I’m_ an actual, bona fide, proven, _recognized, certified, **grade-A fucking genius!**_ Do I have a brain?! My golden brain is a gift to the entire human race! What _I_ do every single day is going to change _everything!_ _Your_ biggest accomplishment was coming out of some rich guy’s ballsack! Nice job on that, by the way. Good work _being born rich._ Just don’t compare yourself to the one, the only-”

“What.”

“Oh ho? Did _I_ strike a nerve now, faggot?” Miu chortled, raising her goggles confidently. “Too bad! If you fuck with one of the great Miu Iruma’s friends- er, I mean, with one of my many male bitches without my permission, _you’re gonna reap the fuckin’ whirlwind!”_

_“Shut **up**!”_

_“Hieeee!”_

There was a moment of stunned silence at the reversal.

Byakuya raged at her, seeing pink now not just from her blindingly unfashionable outfit. “Do you really think I’ve done nothing but _‘be born rich’_? Is that the extent of your _ignorance_ , you pig? _You **filthy cum dumpster?** ”_

“C-C-Cum dumpster?!”

Miu’s eyes rolled up into her head, and she shivered on the spot, thick legs and thighs grinding together.

“Oh boy,” Nagito sighed. “Kirumi, it’s starting.”

“With no doubt,” The Ultimate Maid replied, refusing to look at the perverted look on Miu’s face. She let out an even deeper sigh, folding her hands together. “Let us take Mistress Iruma back to her cabin. So that she can… relax. Alone, and with no further stimulation.”

“ _Hehehehehe_ …. I never expected a guy here to call me a… _cum dumpster_ …. Not bad… Not bad at all… I’ll forgive you this time, Thinigami, b-but you’d better be nicer to Makoto! And stuff! Hehe. _Or just abuse **me** more instead..._ ”

Byakuya watched the trash people cart away the largest, most shapely bit of trash.

He watched them exit the hotel gates, headed back towards Miu’s cabin.

Try as he might to dismiss what just happened as more of the endless wacky antics that plagued this island and its insane inhabitants, Byakuya couldn’t help but clench his fist. He was shaking, still. None of them understood. Clearly. Either he was wrong about something, or the world was wrong. That meant there was only one possible answer.

If anything, Byakuya wasn’t done with that little twerp, yet. He’d have to find Makoto later, and really give him a piece of his mind. Maybe even force him to take part in Byakuya’s own investigation. Since it was clear he wouldn't get anything done with that pea brain on his own.

Byakuya Togami was no coward. He was no pampered noble. He _earned **everything**_. He was the elect, because he _earned_ it.

Miu talked about helping ‘the world’? Well this world, this entire world…

This world _belonged_ to the Togami family. Which meant...

"Just watch, 'Ultimates'. It doesn't matter what the rules of the game are. Or who my enemy is. It doesn't matter if the world itself is my enemy now. In the end, I'll be the one who survives."

_Because this world is mine._


	5. 1-7b. I Know You Can Do It (Rantaro)

Rantaro Amami didn't know what his Ultimate Talent was.

Rantaro Amami didn't know a lot of very critical things about himself.

Rantaro Amami did remember that he had twelve sisters, and all were missing.

Rantaro Amami was haunted by memories of destruction, dredged by the flashback light.

Rantaro Amami couldn't keep lying on his dang bed forever. Tempting as it was. The sheets were soft. The pillows comfortable. The bed was memory foam. Rantaro sank right in. He'd traveled enough to appreciate a good bed, as often that was lacking from his family's adventures. So getting these kinds of accommodations, which rivaled or surpassed any resort he'd been to, were nothing to sneeze at.

Even so, if he laid around, all he'd have were bad dreams. Or worse, bad waking thoughts, as he stared up at the ceiling. So he finally got himself into gear. He pulled off his necklace and set it aside, shrugging off his striped blue-black shirt a moment later to reveal a pale, thin torso. He was no stick. His worldwide travels saw to that. Somehow, along the way, he never gained a healthy tan. Ah well. It was probably all the time underground, or in abandoned ruins and temples.

Rantaro didn’t have the proper perspective to appreciate how abnormal that experience was for a college-aged fellow. Or really, anyone. He shrugged off his khakis and underwear, shambling into the shower.

Refreshed and renewed, he emerged half an hour later and toweled off. He wasn’t thinking about the memory issues, for once. Instead, he could dwell, because Rantaro was always dwelling on something, on the positives. The nice bungalow wasn't the only thing he'd gained by being brought here.

As he shaved in front of the bathroom mirror, he thought of the friendships he'd made. Six days ago, he hadn't even met Kaede, Shuichi, Hajime, Ibuki, Peko... Mahiru...

Thinking of the redhead made Rantaro examine his windows, and make sure all the curtains were drawn. Just in case. Even though the idea that she'd, what? Peep on him while he was in a towel? Beyond absurd. Mahiru was responsible, in a way few of her fellow Ultimates were. That wasn't a knock on them. if anything, it just made Rantaro wonder what her story was. Why did she push herself, and others, so hard? It was the kind of drive he'd expect from a pro athlete.

Maybe he could go, and-

_Knock, knock._

Maybe he could go, and see her.

First, though, he had to answer the door. "Oh, Mahiru." Wow, that was easy-

_Click._

Since it was still light outside, Mahiru Koizumi, the Ultimate Photographer, hadn't set the flash on her black. sleek modern DSLR. Rantaro still heard it cycle as it took a photo, there was no mistake.

_Click._

Then another.

Which led him to look down, and see his own bare chest, leading down to the towel wrapped low and loose around his hips. At least he was covered up, but, uh. Oops. Lost in thought, he’d switched mental tracks without finishing either his shave or, say, putting on some pants. A moment which was now captured forever in Mahiru's camera. The image of him looking surprised, the lower half of his face being covered in foamy cream that happened to match the shade of his perpetually messy sex-hair. And of course, just in the towel.

"This  _has_  to be a violation of journalistic ethics."

_Click._

"I'm not a journalist. I'm a photographer. And I never pass up a chance to catch a boy doing something stupid. As you can imagine, I'm a busy gal."

Rantaro shut the door in her face, blushing. He returned a minute later with a fresh shirt pulled over him, and most critically, pants. Less cream on his face, too. Mahiru was still there. Still waiting with her camera, although when she saw he had clothes, she lowered it with a sigh to reveal her keen grey eyes. "Well, that was rude."

"What's it going to take to get you to delete those?"

"Oh, right, I never told you before now. Well, part of my code is that once I take a photo, I never delete it.” The freckled redhead raised a hand carelessly. “Sorry. I don't make the rules, I just work here."

Rantaro glowered. "How about if I threaten to stop being your model?"

Definitely a gal who widened out the lower you went, Mahiru had a habit of putting her hands on her hips, perhaps just to emphasize that. Although her pea-green skirt over a simple white button-up, complete with tie, did a good job of that too. The ensemble wasn’t exactly simple, but the design fit her well. Practical and sturdy, just like the brown shoes she crunched around the sand and dirt with. Just like her, really. "Then I'll just have to take photos without your say-so from now on."

"Mahiru, come on."

"I never delete a photo." She printed out the three shots she'd taken of him looking absurd, and held them like she might a hand of poker cards. Literally the upper hand. However, while her stance was confident, her face was fit to match the shade of her short, boyish haircut. "Although we could do a trade instead, for me giving you these."

Rantaro crossed his arms in annoyance. "Name your price."

"I want a real shirtless set.” Mahiru blushed brighter. “Say three photos just to make it even. But this time, no shaving cream, and you're smiling." She fidgeted. "I like that a lot better than your stupid dopey depressed face you make a lot. Like now."

Wonder why he’d have any reason to be sad. "Deal. We'll work out a time for that. Maybe a little beach date."

"Hey, nobody said anything about a date!"

"I just did. Although if you're not down for that, that's fine. I often like to go to Chandler Beach to hang out. Say, tomorrow morning, ten AM. Just relaxing. In a swimsuit. If you want to be there and take some shots. Hey, it's a public place, right."

"Sheesh. I can’t keep this kind of thing up, or people will spread weird rumors.” Mahiru offered the photos, and Rantaro swiped them, wondering if Usami offered document shredding services. “In all seriousness. You don't have to do that kinda thing."

"I promise, I'll look silly and stupid some other time, too. You can take my picture then."

"Well, there's no doubt of that, dummy.” Mahru sighed and shook her head. “I guess I didn't need to come check on you, at all. You're just the same as ever."

"All the same, thanks for your concern, Mahiru. Really. I'm guessing everyone who went off to brood is getting a visit. But the fact that you agreed to come to me? Well. It makes me feel a lot less alone in this world."

"Yeah. Don't mention it. Seriously. Especially not to Hiyoko. She's already building like, effigies of you. Oh, you think that's funny? Think I’m joking around? Consider how all of Class 2 felt yesterday, when we woke up, went to the restaurant area, and found it about to start burning down because she started an uncontrolled fire in a partially wooden building."

“Now that’s a spectacle.” Of course, that just made Rantaro laugh louder. "Knowing you, you were torn between taking photos or picking up a bucket yourself."

"Don't be stupid.” Mahiru ran a hand through her hair. “I did both. I'd better go check on the other emos in your group. Got a lot of those.."

"Yeah. If Hot Topic was going to sponsor one of our classes, it would probably be us."

"Hot who?"

"Nevermind. Thanks for stopping by, Mahiru."

"No problem. Thanks for looking stupid for me."

"Anytime."

* * *

 

"Why bother?"

"Hm? What is it, Peko?"

"Why do you bother coming to talk with me?"

So blunt.

Peko Pekoyama looked like somebody's idea of a living weapon. From vivid and fond memory of the Ultimate Beach Party, Rantaro knew that she was shredded to the bone beneath that black uniform and skirt she wore. Even just the image of her pale skin, white hair, and ruby-red eyes glaring into his soul made quite a combo. Well, plus that sword bag constantly slung around her back. As though at any moment a martial arts movie might happen around her. Trying to beat around the bush would be pointless with the Ultimate Swordswoman. She was a literal-minded person. Very uptight. Like a permanently coiled spring.

Rantaro shrugged. "Well, that should be obvious. Why would any guy want to hang out with you?"

She tensed up, and reached back for her sword bag. Even though the only thing in it was a wooden practice sword. "You were just... waiting for an opening, then?"

"You got me, Peko. All this time I spent, spinning tales of my expeditions, and all the cool animals I saw? All just for a chance to get you alone like this."

"Tch. I should have known." Her voice was cold, but her eyes blazed hot with passionate intensity. She took a step back from him, keeping her stance low. "Which clan sent you? How did you find us?"

What?

"Hurry and answer, before I strike you down."

Whoa.

Rantaro chuckled darkly to himself. His eyes were shaded by his green hair, giving his appearance a sinister aspect. "You really don't have any idea what's coming, do you? For you, or for  _him."_

Peko's eyes widened. " _Him?!_  You can't mean...?"

"That's right. He's gonna be in trouble too." Rantaro didn't have any clue who 'he' was. Given he had a nearly fifty-fifty shot of saying 'him' and having it work, well. Might as well try it. Her uncharacteristic and very cute reaction made that clear. Jackpot. "But you don't have to worry about that. Since your story ends here. That's right, just as you thought. I'm totally a mafia hitman."

_"Nnngh!"_

Rantaro barely had time to duck. Probably because Peko had her bokken in the bag, instead of ready to strike. The first attack was merely at the speed of lightning rather than of light itself. Rantaro's reflexes kicked in. He avoided a swing aimed directly for his head. The wanderer felt wind pressure from that slash passing just overhead, and looked up in astonishment to see Peko looming over him.

Those burning eyes were dead of human emotion, except perhaps a dash of surprise that she missed. And dead-set on him.

Her determination might have been endless, but even she couldn’t deal with the surprise of cleanly missing what should have been a direct hit. She really had just tried to smash his fucking head! Like making guacamole. This awkward moment gave him just enough time to yell, "Kidding!" And put his hands up plaintively, backing up. "Just kidding!"

"What."

"That was what we call a 'joke', Peko! Dear God, you were really going for me."

"You were... joking?" Her knuckles were white as she gripped her sword, now in a guard position, looking over the unarmed man before her. “Is that true?”

"Yeah! For starters, if I was a mafia hitman, would I admit that to your face?"

"I don't suppose that would make any sense." She let out a deep breath.

"So, let's all just calm down, okay?"

"I am calm. You, on the other hand, are either a liar, or very stupid."

"Mark me down for 'stupid'. You won't be the first girl to do that today. Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were expecting an assassin any day now." He shook his head. "Fucking absurd. Look. I know everybody's got their own stuff going on. Being the best sword-fighter in Japan has got to be some real shit. For all I know, your life is like Tsumugi's anime. Then again, I have a hard time picturing you striking a pose or talking about stuff 'in the name of the moon'..."

"Stupid it is."

"So really, I'm not gonna pry or anything. I’m sorry for provoking you. But if you're that wound up, there's going to be an accident. I mean, if I didn't have my cat-like reflexes, you would have smashed my head in.”

Peko nodded coldly. "That was the goal, yes."

"So if you did that to someone else, they would die."

"Exactly."

Rantaro sighed. "Peko, this is no joke."

Peko was unflinching. "I’m not a funny person. Rantaro, what you did was terminally stupid. I don’t pick words lightly or say unnecessary things. So take ‘terminal’ at face value. If anybody is stupid enough to challenge me, they’re better off dead."

Rantaro shook his head. “Nah. You already said to Hajime that you would prefer to avoid killing.”

“I could have been lying.”

“Nope. If you were really so stupid, you wouldn't be an Ultimate.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Not at all. Look, All I’m saying is, going around this tensed up is no good. You can't live like this. You can't live expecting death. Or you can’t call it ‘living’. Especially, you can't go around ready for battle, or you're just going to go off in some poor guy's face like a loaded gun. Then, whoever 'he' is, you won't be of any help to him anymore. Because the group will think you're one of the attackers."

"That reminds me. What do you know about 'him' and I?"

"Nothing. Well, actually, I could make some wild guesses. But I know when to keep my mouth shut. All I'm saying is, it's okay to let yourself relax. A little. In fact, if you don't, you'll burn out in no time flat. Trust me. Also, taking people at face value is no good in a situation like this with hidden enemies, too."

"You have experience with people out for your life. That much was clear from the moment you evaded my first strike."

"You can't travel the world like my family does without getting into a few scrapes." Rantaro shrugged. " More conflict is caused by accidents and misunderstandings than you’d think. So we’ve got to work together, to reduce those misunderstandings. So we can reduce conflict, too."

Then, Peko did the most amazing thing of all. She smiled a little, tiny bit. Well, she definitely moved her mouth. It was probably that. What sort of life would a person have to lead to make them forget how to smile? Was she really in some intense training program all her life to forge her into this kind of human weapon? "I don't know what I was thinking, Rantaro. To suspect you were an assassin."

"Everyone says I give off this shady aura," He shrugged. "But I don't get it. I'm not a bad guy."

Peko went one better than a smile; she laughed. It wasn't much of a laugh. She was probably badly out of practice. "My suggestion is to stop saying that. Every time somebody insists they're innocent, the natural impulse is to think the opposite."

Rantaro scratched his head. "Damn. I didn't think about that. Maybe I should stop saying  _‘I’ve never been convicted of murder’_ , either."

His amateur comedian routine probably only worked on Peko because she wasn’t used to the real thing. Or because the sudden rush of adrenaline made things feel more intense and lively than they actually were. "You're like Hajime. He asked me why I kept talking about fighting and killing all the time. 'If we can work together, we don't need that!' I can respect somebody who thinks that way. Since you've given me some unsolicited advice, though, I'll tell you what I told him. The reason I must stay ready. Sometimes, a conflict doesn’t arise from misunderstanding. Sometimes, you understand perfectly well, and that’s why you must fight.” She shook her head and looked down, sadly. “There are times when a sword  _must_  be drawn. Whether or not you want to. Whatever the consequences. That won't change until the human race has vanished from this world."

Rantaro considered her speech for a beat.

“Seriously. I know for a fact that Nekomaru gives the most amazing massages.”

“I’m good, thanks. I will… look for a hobby, though. If any of the clubs that are forming would have somebody like me.”

Rantaro tapped his forehead. “You know, I think Gundham and Gonta were talking about some kind of animal thing. Even though, aside from bugs and birds, this island is barren. Animal-wise. I guess it’s like, they want to talk about animal things to help their withdrawal symptoms. I thought about joining. Could put in an application for you too.”

“Hm. Very well.”

* * *

 

A crayon-scribble sign might have kept out some people out. But not Rantaro Amami-

Actually, no, it was highly unlikely to keep out anyone.

Except maybe some of Shuichi’s crew. _‘Eeeee, but the sign said the beach was closed, what if they hate me forever?!?!’_ Rantaro had the true heart of a warrior’s courage beating within him, though. That’s what that one tribe, the Kaori, had told him. Even if he himself doubted it. It did mean he was willing to brave crossing The Sign.

What was Usami going to do, send a rain of meteors down at him? He’d like to see her try and cast the Armageddon spell with that Magic Stick.

The tunnel to Chandler Beach wasn’t even blocked or barricaded. He just walked right on through the traffic tunnel, complete with a few abandoned, empty cars whose engines had been totally removed. To the sheltered beachfront on the southernmost part of Second Island. The cliffs boxing it in gave the beach an entirely different atmosphere from Tranquility, and it was out of the way. A prime place to hang out and take some sun in, with just his own thoughts.

It wasn’t a mentally healthy way of life, but it was his. Ever since his psychiatrist had been among the people joining the Ultimate Hunt to try and ambush and kill him, like what happened in his memories one cold, rainy day, he’d had to find alternate ways to keep it together.

Today, that was going to be more difficult than usual. Not just because of the attempt on his life, either.

He saw Hiyoko Saionji, the blonde little demon of an Ultimate Traditional Dancer, in her usual bright orange kimono, and Himiko Yumeno, the Ultimate Magician, a redheaded strawberry of a girl, in her black coat and wrinkly, very stereotypical hat. Crashing together on a couch. Right there in the sand. Looking out over the sea as the sun drooped low over the waterline and bathed the beach in red-orange glow.

“There’s a lot of questions I could ask. Got some really pithy jokes, too. But really. I’m just curious about the couch.”

The two girls were surprised to hear Rantaro, and looked over to see him leaning over the back. Hiyoko let out a startled, angry noise, while Himiko grinned haplessly. “Well, that should be obvious. I just used my magic to move it from the beach house out here.”

“Wouldn’t that count as littering, in a sense?”

“Do  _you_  hear any alarms?” Himiko countered, voice languid and flat.

“Five points to Gryffindor.” He tapped the couch. “Nice work, girls. This thing is probably so heavy, the two of you would have taken like an hour to get it out here without a spell.”

“Only thirty minutes,” Himiko corrected him. “... Wait, forget you heard that.”

“The heck are you doing out here, wierdo?!” Hiyoko demanded, bristling with her usual aggression. “Can’t you read?!”

“Yeah, but who cares about Usami’s rules when the world is ending?”

Hiyoko pouted, cheeks red. “Tch. I was the one who put up that sign, not her, idiot.” It probably said something when Rantaro couldn’t distinguish childish scribblings from, well, whatever Usami wrote on actual paper or signs. “Didn’t you hear the blonde bitch when she said that small groups can reserve the private beachfront?”

“I didn’t hear Kaede say I’d be hauled off to jail if I didn’t respect your little crayon sign.”

“If you keep up the way you’re going, ‘big bro’, you’re gonna be hauled off to jail for entirely different reasons. Heh.”

“Big bro has a nice ring. It fits you, Rantaro,” Himiko observed, tapping her chin.

Hiyoko continued her fusillade. "Of all the people on this island, you're the one I want to see the least, Rantaro. I wouldn't even let you be my slave if you begged me."

"You could be my familiar, though," Himiko graciously offered.

"Depends," Rantaro replied. "That's not just another word for 'slave', right? I suppose I'd end up helping you with your magic?"

"It's not tricks, it's... Oh, right. You're not like all those others. Yeah. You'd help me with all sorts of stuff. Like if the remote for the TV was too far away, I'd make you go get it. Sounds pretty nice, huh?"

Rantaro shook his head. "What are you going to do with a TV on this island? Also, don't mention that kind of menial stuff up front. It could scare off recruits."

"Ah. I guess that's true. Interacting with people is such a pain. Thanks, big brother."

Sure, why not? Why stop at twelve?

"The bond between us will be sealed with my strongest magic."

"Hey, avocado. Don't you dare ignore me! Didn't you hear what I said?" Hiyoko demanded. “Buzz off and go do somebody’s nails or something!”

"I heard you," Rantaro confirmed. "I just don't give a darn. It might be called a 'private' beach, but this place is as public as anywhere else. So if I want to hang out and become a mage's familiar, you've got no right to stop me."

"God, that attitude is the reason you should burst into flames! Not that you're not already pretty flaming,  _kusukusu_."

"I thought we were cool, Hiyoko. Where's this coming from?"

"If you can't even figure that much out, you're hopeless!" Hiyoko's honey-gold eyes fixed on him, intense. Rantaro preferred her usual mean-spirited comedy routine to this upfront. Having somebody act like this at him was disconcerting. "Mahiru's right. Boys are dumb and useless and dumb."

Ah.

Mahiru told him not to bring this subject up, but he considered it already there. He wasn’t good at ignoring elephants in a room. Or potentially dangerous situations, even if it meant sticking his hand, or head, right into it. "You know, she called me dumb today, too. When we met up. Could be on to something."

Hiyoko pouted. "Of course you met with her today. You're like, all over her. It's actually gross."

"What's wrong with being friendly? It is why we were brought to this island."

"That, and the global witchunt," Himiko said, gravely. "In my case, literally. Doubtless, it was because normal people feared the power of my mag-"

"It's clear what you really want from her, Dummy Rantaro."

"Oh yeah? I thought I was doing a great job of being mysterious. Apparently you've got me all figured out."

"I don't need Himiko's magic to tell me that you just want to take advantage of her kindness!"

"That a fact?"

Himiko intervened, with as much force as she could muster. Very little. "Hiyoko, you can't just berate my familiar like that-

"He’d make a terrible familiar, Himiko. I’m just looking out for you. Because he doesn't care about us. We're not in his 'strike zone', as that fucking pig in a chef’s apron would say. Since that's out, it’s a miracle he even pretends to talk with us.”

“Come on, Hiyoko,” Rantaro objected. “That’s not really what you think, is it?”

“Tch.” The dancer averted her gaze, arms folded inward around the tiny frame of her body. “This is why good-hearted people are the dumbest. Since all the rest, the bad ones, most people, just take advantage of them. And they don’t just let it happen, they like, are cool with it. So they deserve it. That’s why Mikan is so disgusting. I'd still be on her fat ass daily, if she wasn't leeching off those stupid Black Hats. It’s like a leech party, like they’re all just relying on each other."

“Yeah, that’s called ‘being friends’,” Rantaro sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. And this is you, so that’s a pretty low bar.”

"But is that stuff true about you, Familiar Rantaro Amami?" Himiko demanded. "You have to answer honestly if I use your true name."

"Well, if you’ve used my true name, I can’t avoid it. I’ll tell the full truth: That’s a messed-up way of looking at people," Rantaro replied with a sigh, hands on hips. "Always assuming the worst. Like there's no possibility I just want to be friends?"

“Well, Hiyoko, maybe-”

Hiyoko talked over her. "No. If you're a guy, there isn't any such thing!"

"Watch yourself on that slippery slope," Rantaro cautioned, raising a ring-laden finger.

"Hey, don't talk over me like I'm some side character," Himiko said. "Guys aren't the only ones who can be way too forward, Hiyoko. Trust me. It’s not just a guy thing."

"Ah, yeah." Rantaro rubbed the back of his head. "Himiko, that whole situation is a misunderstanding. Now, most of that's on Tenko, for sure. But you sit there and tolerate the way she dotes on you and all that. She might not know how you feel. In fact, I'm sure that Tenko isn't the kind of girl who'd be all over you if she thought you hated it."

“I don’t know about hate, but it’s annoying when she’s constantly treating me like some cute animal or pet… It’s like the way Hiyoko goes berserk when people treat her like a kid.”

“Nobody understands me, that’s all,” Hiyoko pouted.

"Wonder why. Maybe we should just have Tenko flip you, too," Rantaro suggested. "Shuichi said it's like she's a mind reader, Himiko. Then she’d understand what’s what."

Himiko shook her head. "Nyeh. I bet that hurts a lot. I'll pass."

"Fine, but you've gotta say something then. Even if another girl told Tenko to lay off, she probably wouldn't take that advice. She's... stubborn. Dogged. A determination I can admire, even if it might led to me getting beat up."

"Yeah. It's going to be a massive pain."

"Well, you've got to decide if one big awful conversation is worse than continuous annoyance. I'd be telling her the same thing, if it wasn't going to get me pounded into dust."

"Maybe Tenko's onto something with her campaign to destroy all awful boys," Hiyoko pondered. "I have yet to meet any guy ever who's worth a damn. Either they're angling in and trying to 'pick up chicks', or they're... stupid in other ways. Like my dumb stupid dad..."

Even in the middle of being mad at him, Hiyoko couldn't help spilling her guts. That was the kind of vibe Rantaro gave off. He took a seat on the couch beside them, there being plenty of room because both girls were tiny. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his legs, gazing out into the sunset.

"That story you told me last time, Hiyoko. About the hypothetical dad who just wanted to protect his daughter...?"

"I'm not talking to you, Stupid Rantaro. You're, like, my main rival now."

'That so?"

"That's another reason you should fucking die. That look. I was right, You really do look at me like I'm just a kid. You probably think this is some stupid little-sister crush, or, like, a phase. Or any of that stuff they'd say back home." Hiyoko looked aside. "If any of us have homes to go back to..."

"Alright, enough of this, Hiyoko. You know I don't think like that. I don't actually look at you two like little sisters or anything, I know you're grown-ass adults like the rest of us."

"I wish I was a kid again," Himiko mused. "Being an adult can be way too tough sometimes. A lot of the time." Every university student had such thoughts at one point or another, Rantaro believed that firmly.

What he also believed was that having somebody put words in his mouth was annoying. On a level above Hiyoko's usual antics. "You want me to take you seriously? Fine. I like Mahiru. Of course I do. We both do. Probably for a lot of the same reasons. Although I didn't have to ask other people how to put parts of my own outfit on."

"This sash thing is a bitch and a half, and you know it."

"I should have taught you it wrong when you asked.”

“Well, now the genie’s out of the bottle, and I’m unstoppable! Or, at least, I can take a shower and not smell so bad anymore. Okay, maybe you’re not actually Satan.”

Hiyoko being capable of giving credit where credit was due was a recent development. It was, in fact, probably due more to Mahiru’s influence than anything else. Sometimes she didn’t scold Hiyoko’s actions, but the way she interacted with her, led by examples, and curbed the worst excesses of Hiyoko’s acerbic personality were, well. It was nice to see. Rantaro didn’t relish being the reason that relationship went sour, if he could avoid it.

He had to do something about this, though.

“I want to ask Mahiru out, when I think it's the right time.”

Both of the girls gasped, although Himiko was just enjoying the relationship drama around her, while Hiyoko had more of a look of abject panic on her face. Some people on the island would have paid all their Celeste Chips to see Hiyoko looking like that, much less to be able to cause it on command, but it gave Rantaro no pleasure.

“In fact, Sonia's talking about having some kind of festival in a week, try to lift everyone's spirits. To take our mind off, well. All the stuff we all just saw. Everyone’s already figuring out that we’re in this together, but if we really want to have a ‘communal life’, that means accepting each other to some degree. So I think that's a pretty good time to do it.”

“It’s a classic staple of shoujo manga,” Himiko nodded. “Not that I would, uh, know. My friend from high school read a lot and pestered me about it. It was a pain.”

“Sure. So here's my challenge to you, Hiyoko.” Rantaro stood back up, and stared her down. She looked back up at him, defiance lighting up her eyes as much as the brilliance of the sun setting behind him. His shadow loomed over her.

“You have  **until the end of the Ultimate Festival next Friday**  to ask Mahiru out. If you don't, or you strike out, then I will."

She gripped the armrest of the couch so tight that the stuffing looked ready to pop. "You can't be serious."

"One week, Hiyoko. Any time before that, any place. You could even do it at the festival before me, snipe my idea. I don't really care if you go for it, or you sit there and stew and regret it later because you didn't just take the shot and see what happened.”

“Nngh…” Hiyoko was fighting back tears, instead of her usual, which was to produce crocodile waterfalls to try and get sympathy. In a way, that was her showing how seriously she was taking Rantaro; not trying her usual tricks on him, just being open, honest, and straight-out aggressive. That was fine, that what he wanted.

She could be strong, he knew it. Hiyoko had it within her.

“Fact is, we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. Or next week. Or five seconds from now. That’s always true in life. _‘A thief in the night’_  and all that.”

“A what? Thief?”

“Nevermind, it’s a foreign thing.” As it turned out, the Ultimate Traditional Dancer? Not the biggest fan of foreign things. Or rather, she was the biggest fan of traditional Japanese things, and had little interest in, oh. The rest of the planet. Another way the two ‘rivals’ couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. “On this island, though, uncertainty is higher than ever before. Given all we know. Another guy like Monokuma could show up at any time. If it happened once, it can happen three times, right?”

“See, now  _that’s_  close to a proper saying. Good job there. That semester of Public Speaking is really paying off.”

“I think you’ll get to Speech 100 soon,” Himiko agreed with Hiyoko’s sarcastic quip with her usual childlike sincerity.

“Fact is, Himiko, this is for you too. Your problem is different, it’s kind of the opposite of what we’ve got here. Even so, it’s your time to act. Not later, but now. You two need to seize the moment while it's still here. Before life passes you by." He waved out towards the sunset, which was already halfway down. Its light seemed all the more brilliant as it slowly faded out.

"That sounds like a pain," Himiko complained.

"Are you trying to win, or help your enemy so much you lose?" Hiyoko mocked. “I told you. People who try to be kind, like my dad, just end up crying tears of despair in the end.”

Rantaro sighed and crashed back on the couch. "Suit yourselves. The only people who can change you are sitting right here, pretending not to be friends."

"She was here when _I_  got here," Both girls said simultaneously.

Rantaro let out a sigh, and before long, the small talk among them died off.

Considering all that had happened, the vibe was oddly peaceful among the three of them, tucked away from the rest of the island in their own little world. Rantaro closed his eyes, and regretted it. The dying orange-red glow of the sunset leaked through even his closed eyelids enough to resemble the way the sky was on fire that day.

What did that all mean?

What was happening in the outside world, even now?

Rantaro did his best to just rest, talking back very occasionally if Himiko or Hiyoko had something to say to him.

What he wasn't expecting was to wake up in the middle of the couch. Or to find both girls were resting their heads against him like he was a big pillow, also sound asleep.

Tuckered out from today’s flashback light, no doubt.

Okay, even if they were a similar age to him, they did in fact look like kids in that moment.

it was criminally cute, so he'd feel bad about disturbing either. The fact that they could sleep was a good sign. It meant the three of them were at least a little at peace. Neither girl on either side were muttering about the Hunt, or people trying to kill them, or any of that. They could forget their troubles, at least for a little bit.

So if he had to offer up himself as a piece of furniture to make that happen, oh well-

_**"R a n t a r o."** _

Huh?

Rantaro looked up, and although it was dark out, he could clearly see certain very distinctive traits of a certain Ultimate Aikido Master. Blue outfit, whose buttons visibly strained. Big green bow in her hair. Incongruously cute choker with a cat-bell. Blazing, outraged eyes that looked upon him for daring to commit the crime of being male.

Tenko Chabashira.

**"This is your one, and only chance, to explain.”**

Rantaro looked to his left, and saw his arm draped over Himiko, who was resting soundly against his chest and nuzzling into it like a cat. He looked right, and saw Hiyoko resting instead on his lap, neatly-done hair messed up as one of the little doggo hairclips had come undone, and tumbled onto the sand.

In that situation, more than anything else, a calm, rational, reasonable response was needed. They had to talk this over. Surely Tenko would understand the situation. Surely, once she realized Rantaro's true intentions, she wouldn't be so angry. As long as he didn’t say something stupid just for a cheap joke to try and defuse the tense moment.

"Hey, they came onto me, alright?"

Okay, maybe Mahiru and Peko and Hiyoko were all right about him. To some degree.

Mark that down under 'terminally stupid'.

At least with him being literally covered in girls, Tenko couldn't bring up one of those tree-trunk legs and just smash him, and the sofa, deep into the Earth's core. While there was a certain odd appeal some wierd guys found to the idea of being crushed by a pair of top-quality legs, Rantaro was not among them. He was way more of a flowers-and-dinner kinda guy.

She bellowed forth a war cry. **"HIIIYAAAH! Say your prayers, degenerate male!"**

Which promptly woke up both girls.

Something amazing happened then. More amazing then Peko's smile, or Hiyoko being honest about something.

Himiko exploded.

Well, on the Himiko scale, it was an explosion. To normal people, it would probably look like the textbook definition for ‘dull surprise’. She rose up from the couch and pointed at Tenko accusingly. "Why is it that every single time, when I relax, you're always around to ruin it?"

Tenko's eyes bugged out. "H-Himiko?!"

"This was the first time since we saw those horrible flashbacks that I could even nap. Without remembering all the things we went through. I didn’t get fifth, or sixth naps at all because of the horrors. The moment I drop my guard, and manage to get past all that enough to get some naps in so I have enough energy to sleep properly tonight, here comes Tenko the Loudmouth."

"L-L-Loudmouth?!"

Oh shit, she was bringing out the heavy artillery.

"Rantaro was hanging out with us and we decided he was pretty comfortable. Because he's like a big brother to me, and to Hiyoko. A big brother. Not anything else. He's never done anything to be a creep, or a jerk. To anyone. But you're ready to murder him, just like all those people in the Ultimate Hunt were going to kill me! For no reason except hate! That's stupid! You're stupid!"

"T-Tenko was just using a little figure of speech, uh... Himiko... T-Tenko wouldn’t actually exterminate a filthy male for such things… l-l-let's talk about this..."

"If you want somebody to be your opponent, if you want to pick on somebody weaker than you, like Hiyoko, since you clearly can't hang with any of the real fighters? Try me." Himiko stood up to Tenko, despite being maybe a third to a half of of her size, taking into account both width and height. Certainly, the strawberry magician didn't look to have a single muscle on er body, and she quivered. Although not with fear, but rage. “My Familiar petting me has recharged my mana, so I can hit you with my most potent curse. I call it ‘We aren’t friends anymore’. Are you ready? I’m gonna cast it now.”

"H-Himiko, please... Tenko didn't mean to disturb your nap, she knows that's super important… Anything but that!"

"You don't know anything about me!"

"... I suppose I don’t. Except th-that I really still want to be, uh, friends with you! But y-you hate me, right? Of course you do. Tenko... Tenko hoped that wasn't the case."

"Idiot! If you can't figure out whether I really hate you or not, then you're hopeless!"

"D-Does that mean...?"

"It means you woke me up from my nap," Himiko replied, and just like that, she was back to a lethargic, listless girl, staring at the ground. "It means you need to learn not to take people at just the surface level. And stuff. I dunno. Whatever.”

Tenko looked at Rantaro, and tried to spit something out, but instead what emerged from her mouth was, “Well, what was Tenko supposed to think?!”

“‘Oh, look, three of my fellow Ultimates. I should wake them up, since it’s night-time, and they should sleep in their hotel rooms rather than out here, so they don’t catch a cold.’” Rantaro speculated. “Speaking of which. C’mon, ladies. Let’s go on back. Hiyoko, don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” Hiyoko replied, back to glaring up at him. “One week. You know, it’s not like this is a fair contest. You’re better at, like, working with people. You’re a guy. Mahiru might not even, like. Consider girls in that way. Or even know it’s possible, given how ‘traditional’ she is. She might even just see me as a little sister too.”

“Yep,” He confirmed. “Welcome to the adult world. Where life isn’t fair, and nobody promised you it would be. That part isn’t going to change no matter how much you whine and cry. Your reaction to it, though? Whether you give up, or you keep going? That’s on you. All you.”

He left Chandler Beach without another word to Tenko, nearly brushing past the martial-artist like she wasn’t even there. He went back towards his bungalow. He ran across, and naturally high-fived, both Shuichi and Kaede on the way back. Both could see the look on his face and know he just wanted to get back and not be caught up in more conversations. He had little trouble falling into his bed and back to sleep in minutes.

Unlike the couch, the empty bed did little to ward away more ominous dreams and half-remembered fragments of his fractured memory.

Until more of what he knew was restored, Rantaro Amami would remain a mystery. Even to himself.


	6. 1-8a. Floating Above Hatred (Tenko)

Cut her life into pieces.

This was her last resort.

That was the only reason Tenko would even entertain this absurd idea.

The towering brute who opened his cabin door was the embodiment of all things _male_.

Which was disgusting.

Loud. Body odor. Jovial and candid discussions of bodily functions. He probably found time to watch American football, too. Or even just coached it.

In his black juvenile-hooligan biker-gang coat, complete with a comical oversized chain, and blue jeans, he was built like fifteen brick shithouses. Which were probably places that this creature loved. The idea would have made him happy. He was more grown-up than most of the early-twenties college kids on the island. His air of maturity was an entirely physical thing, though.

"Tenko is aware that we have had our _differences_ up to this point, deg-Mister Nekomaru."

Contrasting this male, standing on his doorstep with a heavy heart and a clenched fist behind her back, was an exemplar for females everywhere. Tenko Chabashira, the Ultimate Aikido Master. Half leg, and they were thick, powerful legs capable of delivering kicks that atomized any foe. A fit, trained body, meticulously honed to perfection by countless hours of exercises and training montages. Even, if Tenko could be modestly prideful, a very attractive figure, too.

"Uh, I never really had a problem with you."

Unlike _males_ , girls were pleasing to the eye in almost any condition. All women were queens, after all. Very few men could be called 'kings' of anything. Maybe Shuichi was the king of being a beta bitch boy. That was about it.

"However! It is finally time to put hatred... briefly... aside. Maybe."

Naturally, playing to his gigantic... ego, which was clear to anyone who looked at him, pleased this menace. "Oh? That's an interesting change in your tone, Tenko Chabashira. An admirable one! ... What do you want?"

"You are perceptive. For a filthy male. One of the most filthy, in fact." Well, it was true! "Do you have to announce to the entire world when you void your bowels?"

"You're letting a few of those jabs slip through regardless, huh."

"Tenko is doing her very best to limit her remarks! So shut up and listen! Ahem. P-P-Please... show Tenko how to grow stronger! So that Tenko can defeat your pupil, Akane, Tenko's very own feared rival!"

The fact that the rivalry was declared made it real. Even if only one of the participants in it actually consented!

Nekomaru stared down at her in bewildered surprise. Just like the disgusting filthy pig that Tenko knew all men to be, he picked his nose. "Kay. Not where I expected that to go. But I just need to reply to your heartfelt request with all the force in my measly body!"

Of all the insulting adjectives Tenko would ascribe to Nekomaru Nidai, the Ultimate Team Manager, and she could ascribe a lot, 'measly' wasn't one. At all. He was built like only one other male on this island. Tenko would slow-roast in hell before she deigned to take combat advice from a softie like Gonta, though. At least this male understood his place, and knew how much Tenko was sacrificing, internally, to extend this kind request-

**"I'M AFRAID I MUST DECLINE WHOLEHEARTEDLY!"**

"What."

**"I'M AFRAID I MUST DECLINE-"**

_"Tenko heard you the first time, idiot!_ Explain yourself! Explain why you hate Tenko so very much, you biased, oppressor male!"

"Do you just not own any mirrors at all?!"

"How dare you! Now you insult Tenko's physical appearance. A typical male tactic to break down the strong, independent female spirit!"

"That's not actually what I... Ah, fuck it. **LISTEN WELL, TENKO CHABASHIRA. THE FIRST RULE OF THE ULTIMATE TEAM MANAGER!"** He pointed in her face, as people on this island seemed awfully fond of doing all the time. Especially rude men. **"DON'T WORK OPPOSITION!"**

"Huh?!"

"If you truly are Akane's enemy, then you can't be anything but **MY ENEMY, AS WELL!** Even if the world was against Akane Oowari, I would not falter from my undying support of my athlete! That is what I swore, dedicating myself upon remembering the horrors of the Ultimate Hunt with everyone else two days ago! That is the dedication which comes as my birthright. That is the core, the heart, the soul, of the Ultimate Team Manager!"

What team _was_ he managing, anyhow? Tenko put her fingers together sheepishly, sweating profusely. "Aha. M-Maybe Tenko was exaggerating a little about the whole 'rivalry' angle."

"Hm. Yes, that does make sense. At your current power level, you could barely knock over a potted plant. Or Mikan." Just because that wasn't inaccurate didn't mean Tenko would ever forgive him for making fun of Mikan. "Much less Akane. She doesn't see weaklings! Akane certainly wouldn't acknowledge you as a rival!"

That one cut right to the bone. Because Tenko knew it was true. Akane shook her world in seconds during their bout at the Ultimate Gymnast's Lab. She didn't even retain Tenko's name afterwards. There had been significant, not-at-all amusing, reports that Touko Fukawa, Ultimate Writing Prodigy, had picked a fight with Akane and gotten predictably beaten down. At least that meant less people knew about the truth.

It was still insulting.

Baffling, too, coming from a fellow female.

Clearly, it couldn't have been malice. Since you couldn't spell 'malice' without 'man'. So what motivated Akane? That was just another thing that Tenko absolutely had to learn, if she was to grow stronger.

Whether or not this degenerate wanted to help her.

"Tenko takes great offense at your disingenuous assertions! If you require a sample of Tenko true power, Tenko will be only too happy to dispense some beatings right now!" She took up a frightening Neo-Aikido stance that was definitely a real technique. It looked cool, too, which was the main thing. Of course, she wouldn't actually strike first against an unready opponent, even if he was the incorrect gender to be considered a human being worthy of respect and dignity. Neo-Aikido was a purely defensive art, with the strictest, definitely non-fictional code of ethics.

"Even if you're not Akane's enemy, this right here is why I wouldn't take you in a million years. Not even if the sun consumed the Earth. Or world war three happened while we're stuck on this island. You're far too weak."

That was it. Tenko had _enough._

While she couldn't endure the most pain, the annoying fault which had led to her humiliating defeat at the hands of Akane's primal offense and ground game, Tenko had many fine qualities about herself.

Clearly, the best way to demonstrate both moral and philosophical superiority was to beat up a man for sassing her.

It sure as hell wasn't the only time that had ever happened. Tenko often found it was very effective. Shattered male egos were just as good as broken bones. The two often mixed well. Tenko had saved countless girls being abused, or exploited, or helped them strike back themselves, in the past.

She bellowed a war cry to build her spirit. “Hiyaa!” Tenko sprang forward with all the considerable strength in her legs, aiming to deliver a devastating kick!

And getting punched right in the gut, for her trouble.

_Hard._

Hard enough that, for just a moment, Tenko thought she saw Atua. Or at least, Nekomaru's fist going clean through her body like a meaty bullet, and coming clean out the other side in a spray of gory pink.

It hadn't, that was just her overactive imagination.

Just barely.

Even Tenko's rock-hard abs didn't do much to blunt the massive impact. Delivered with such coordinated precision, too. Tons of pressure and power, in a fist-sized area, blasting into her abdomen like a loaded shotgun.

Tenko passed out before she hit the ground, drooling blood.

In those hyper-aware, adrenaline-soaked moments, though, she did catch one thing Nekomaru said. Far more softly than all his usual bluster and bombast.

"Seriously though. What a disappointment. You're too weak to benefit from one second of my teaching."

If there was a perfect way to cap out her humiliation, that had to be it.

-

Tenko woke up and stared at the ceiling long before she noticed the room was full of other people.

"She's up."

Ah, the others. Tenko looked down at the familiar voices, and recognized the members of the group everyone on the island called the Black Hats. The people here, wearing any black hats that could be scrounged from Tsumugi’s and the supermarket’s selections, were some of the only people who bothered to put up with Tenko. It was becoming clear why. After all, who could better relate to a weakling, then a fellow weakling?

Especially including the one male who could be permitted into Tenko's room without being executed on the spot via her thighs. Shuichi Saihara. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Tenko. You’re currently in Mikan’s bed. It was faster than bringing you back to your own cabin."

Some called him the Ultimate Detective, even if the omega cuckold rejected that. However, unlike nearly every other male on this fallen world, he was kind to girls. Well, kind to everyone, really. It didn't fit much with being a detective, but Tenko didn't really know about that.

"Ah. Y-You guys rescued Tenko? Thanks..."

"I don't know about 'rescue'," Shuichi replied, tugging at the brim of his iconic black cap. "Mikan just found you-"

“With Atua's guidance! Thanks to a vision he sent me about your condition, Tenko!" Angie’s bright cheer was always a contrast to the rest of the group. She was a girl who marched to the beat of her own drum. Her skin tone and accent made it clear she wasn’t Japanese; her dark complexion was from growing up on a tropical island apparently not too different from Gopher Island itself. She’d been a steady source of emotional support for everyone else. That certainty came with a price, though. The wide-hipped, pear-shaped artist girl, uh.

Fanatical didn’t begin to cover it.

"R-Right," Shuichi nodded along awkwardly. More than his usual. He shared a look with the bedridden Tenko. If nothing else united them, then their discomfort with Angie definitely did. They’d never said a word to each other about it, but it was clear. Thus Tenko felt some small, miniscule kinship with Shuichi.

Maybe what Master told her about associating with males, and how it could drain her power, was coming true. That’s why Tenko never wanted to doubt a fellow girl, or favor a male. But something was off about Angie.

Even so, Angie Yonaga definitely earned her title of the Ultimate Artist. Even without any actual art supplies. It was amazing what somebody with determination and faith could do with a wooden chisel and hammer. Absolute faith was an incredible power, a force that could be used to help, or hurt. Just like Neo-Aikido… if it was practiced by somebody more powerful, rather than Tenko.

"Mikan said your injuries were far from life-threatening,” Shuichi said. “However, what actually happened? Were you assaulted?”

“Straight to the point, huh, Mister Detective? Perhaps you’re enjoying some delightful karma since it happened to Tenko? Enjoying seeing the strong fighter losing to even stronger ones, to humble this female? No, sorry. It’s okay. It’s all Tenko’s fault in the first place.” Tenko recounted the events of the ‘fight’ briefly.

Angie shook her head. “I’m sure if Nekomaru thought you were in trouble, he’d have told somebody and gotten help!”

"Considering he left a girl to bleed out on his own doorstep, I'm not so sure about that," Chihiro Fujisaki sighed. The Ultimate Programmer was a small, cute animal, basically. That was definitely how Tenko saw her, at least. The slender brunette showed the delicate side of feminine nature, to contrast to Tenko’s aggressive power. Both types of girls could be great, and Chihiro needed to be protected at all costs as a perfect angel.

To say the least.

“M-Mister Nekomaru probably knew I’d bumble on by soon enough. I’m just g-g-glad you’re okay,” Mikan said, gripping the edges of the bedsheets. Her knuckles were white. Not that it was easy to tell when Mikan went pale, as she was normally white as a sheet anyway. It seemed she had yet to get any form of tan, in spite of the fact that the Ultimates had been on this island more than a week. “Thank goodness. I’ll th-thank anyone, even, uh, you know who.”

Please do anything but that, Mikan!

Lowly male scum-perverts would doubtless focus on some things about Mikan. Like her huge chest, and unreasonably thick, bountiful, soft curves, which were extremely evident through her nurse's dress. Tenko was about such base concerns, though, even if Mikan was also incredibly gorgeous, and cute. She was caring, too, and had a kind heart that helped her to move forward and save people. Like she'd just done to Tenko.

Okay, maybe she was developing the slightest little massive crush on Mikan Tsumiki. Not that she was in much of a mood to flirt, even if the others weren't there. Then again, if they had a pity-party together, maybe they could bond better now.

“I take it the last stage of your plan didn't go so well," Angie remarked, puffing out her lips thoughtfully as she chewed on the end of her one, and only, paintbrush.

"Correct. Tenko was unable to find anyone of both will and ability, who would be her trainer. But why? And why do I feel this way about it? What’s gone wrong with, just, everything lately? Even with Himiko..." What had happened on Chandler Beach was already well-known to everyone in the Black Hats. Tenko was not known for keeping her mouth shut about things.

"Maybe we can figure out what's really causing this," Shuichi suggested. "We can put our heads together. Let's go over the case one more time."

"Case?" Chihiro echoed, confused.

Presumably, Shuichi was referring to that weird mind-anime thing he did. He did a lot of weird mental things. It was the whole savant-detective routine. Tenko knew that some girls recently had gotten super into a few shows about brooding, emo detective pretty-boys. Before now, she always assumed that it was just a trap by the decadent modern society to ensnare girls into admiring yet another male role model in media.

Now, she still thought that, but Shuichi was okay basically pretty much. For a boy. If he'd only consider that sex change operation, Tenko was sure that with Mikan's skills, even if she didn't have the proper facilities, it would be a snap. Or rather, a snip. "Very well. Tenko will recount everything, even though it hurts. Tenko will believe in Shuichi's detective work."

"Angie believes in Shuichi, too!"

"T-Thanks." Tch. Apply the slightest bit of pressure, even positive pressure, to this male, and he crumpled like he was made of wax. Rather than just looking the part. Well. Tenko didn't have the right to judge anyone else for being weak after her pitiful 0-2 record on this island so far. In fact, that might have been a reason why she didn't feel the need to insult Shuichi quite so much anymore. Well, that, and learning his true nature thanks to a judo flip.

The usual progression to a friendship.

"This 'case' started when Tenko decided to challenge Akane Oowari, the Ultimate Gymnast to battle. She was defeated. She couldn't endure the shame of this, and trained harder. However, this led to Tenko going too hard, and being injured.”

_The falling down didn't hurt._

_Aside from all the wind rushing by, you'd barely feel anything._

_Especially if you grew accustomed to it._

_Tenko was used to falling by now, in various ways._

_The sudden stop at the end, though?_

_That one sharp moment of realization?_

_That hurt. It hurt as bad as getting yelled at by Himiko._

_On the bright side, a straight fall from that distance would have done a lot worse than shook her up._

_All the rocks she hit on the way down were totally good, then, probably._

_Mikan Tsumiki was halfway to dying herself, despite not being the one injured and bleeding. Tenko had never seen the Ultimate Nurse move that fast. In fact, the way Mikan's hands moved, the speed and precision, wouldn't be out of place in any martial arts tournament. Even while her eyes were full of tears and she blubbered about how worried she was for Tenko, Mikan was bandaging the wounds. Some of the gauze soaked through with sickening pink, but she kept at it._

_Tenko wouldn't admire too much Mikan, though. Not for lack of trying. Considering that even a little bit of pain was enough to knock her flat, Tenko had no way to stand up to so much injury. She floated in and out of consciousness, delirious from pain and painkillers alike..._

“Until you all forced Tenko to consider the merits of a trainer. Not a full one, since Master is definitely still waiting for her out there, somewhere. However, it was a good suggestion in the meantime, Angie."

The white-haired islander girl clapped. "Nyahaha! Atua showed me the way. Just as he gave me a vision of where to find you, so that Mikan could go save you! If you feel compelled to give thanks, then give them yourself, to Atua! He'll be super happy with that."

“M-Mikan was also helpful, with her heartfelt plea."

* * *

"Then at least, can I recommend, um. A trainer?"

"Hmnn. That's brilliant, Mikan!" In her excitement, Tenko grabbed Mikan's heavily-bandaged hands. Causing fluffy panic.

"Eeeek! I'm sorry! Not the fingers again- Huh? Y-You agree?"

"Of course! All Tenko needs to do is find somebody who can train her to become stronger!"

Shuichi shook his head. "So when Angie suggests something, it's inconceivable due to your warrior pride. But when Mikan says the same thing..."

"Quiet, male! Even bedridden, I can beat you!"

"That's probably true, yeah," Shuichi admitted, defeated.

Mikan squinted up her face cutely in determination."M-M-Might I then be so rude and impertinent as to recommend my classmate, Mister Nekomaru, the Ultimate Team Manager-"

"That's a good idea, Mikan! Tenko will go see the strongest woman in the entire world! Sakura Oogami, the Ultimate Martial Artist! It was clearly meant to be."

"Erm.... G-Good luck, Tenko. Um, you're still holding onto my hands..."

"Sorry! Aha ha ha... Tenko will go now."

"Wait, I'm not sure you should be moving..."

Tenko stared right into her eyes. "Rabbits die of loneliness. But Tenkos die if they can't take action, Mikan. If they can’t move forward, there’s no point to their existence at all. If they can’t protect the ones really important to them. Thanks for your help. All of it. Tenko will be back as soon as she secures the assistance of that formidable woman. Tenko swears that she will become the sort of woman you can be proud of!"

"Oh... okay... G-Good luck..."

 

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I must decline your request."

"Spectacular! When can we. What?!"

Sakura shook her head, letting Tenko see every angle of the massive scar that gashed its away across her face. Her darker complexion did nothing to conceal the old wound."I am already training somebody. I fear that my talents lie more in combat then in preparing others for it, but I made him promise. So I must devote myself to that task."

"Him? No way." Could even the strongest woman in the whole world be coerced, in some way, by some degenerate filth?! Surely not.

"Indeed. Hajime needs my help to advance from his current... lowly state into something greater."

"You're kidding."

Sakura glared at her with the force of a billion suns. Or anyway, that's what it felt like. "Do I look like the sort of person who kids around?"

"N-Not particularly?"

"Don't get me wrong. I am truly flattered that you came to me, Tenko. I feel a bond between us that is stronger than blood, due to our shaped enthusiasm for the martial arts. However, without my own dojo, or my usual supply of high-quality protein, I feel even myself slipping, slowly. The longer we stay in this beguiling island paradise. Much less the idea of me making somebody else stronger. Especially since you are already so strong and capable."

Tenko was nearly too shocked for words. She certainly didn't dare say what she was thinking in front of such an intimidating mountain of a woman. Lest Sakura take offense and teach her another kind of lesson.

Such was how far Tenko had fallen. The very idea of fighting a stronger opponent now concerned her, rather than the excitement she should have felt as a martial artist. She barely even noticed that compliment, and instead just obsessed over the rejection itself.

Since she had no way to persuade Sakura to dump that degenerate perverted underwear-collecting male. With his thick, pointy, huge, unreasonable ahoge. Tenko was compelled to withdraw.

She did add, though, “It may be imposing of Tenko to say this, but you’re still incredible, Miss Sakura. Even scraps a genius throws away from her notes are like gold to normal people, right? I’m sure the same thing applies here, everyone still views you as the strongest, with no doubts.” Tenko felt foolish, trying to console such a mighty physical and mental pillar of a woman.

At least, until she smiled. “Hmm. Something I haven’t considered before. Thank you for that, Tenko.”

* * *

"I can't help you. No, please. Stop bowing to me."

"No! Tenko won't stop! Tenko will never stop bowing to you, until you agree to train her!"

Mukuro Ikusaba, the black-haired Ultimate Soldier, had a reaction strikingly similar to the white-haired Ultimate Swordswoman, Peko Pekoyama. "That's a strange thing to threaten somebody with."

That was exactly Tenko's most masterful remaining strategy! Mukuro was no doubt used to people threatening her with violence. Mostly horrible, awful males. Of course. Crime was mostly done by males, which demonstrated beyond any shadow of a doubt that they were savage, violent, brutal creatures. That kind of threat, even if Tenko felt up to making it, wouldn't be as moving as this. Not to mention, this was a threat that Tenko could execute on.

"Nonetheless, it's true! Tenko needs your help, Miss Mukuro!"

"Tenko, it's not that I don't want to help you. I meant it when I say that I can't. We exist in different worlds."

"Hm? Tenko knows that we're different people, but, um..."

"No. Listen. You fight people. I _kill_ people."

"Mukuro..."

Or, as Peko had put it, "There are many different kinds of swords. You are a **dueling rapier**. Honed to artfully strike, and clash against an opponent. Your craft is indeed beautiful. Perhaps meant show off to a crowd. Rivalries, tournaments. Now, though? You're trying to bring a **cavalry saber** to a fancy party. A big, heavy sword like that isn't made to duel. It's meant to hack the enemy to pieces."

Cavalry saber? Was this the Meiji period?

It sort of felt like she was talking to the same person with either deadly weapon lady. Except that, while Peko was a wandering noble warrior with no particular cause, Mukuro was devoted to a fellow girl. In a touching display of feminine loyalty and family bonds. It was hard to believe either talked about killing other human beings, such an abominable act, so lightly. "Tenko isn't going to judge. Especially since she's asking you for help, but. Surely. Surely, there must be some... overlap?"

Mukuro shrugged helplessly. Even that action was carefully controlled, like every movement she made. Even her expression was usually flat, and she had to make an active effort to even appear like she was expressing an emotion. "In some areas. The other issue is, I don't really know how to train somebody. Except to make them a soldier."

"Tenko could become a strong soldier! Tenko is already a warrior in the battle against male oppression!"

"You would hate it."

"Tenko has gone through hellish training for the sake of Neo-Aikido. It can’t be worse than that!"

"You aren't listening.” Mukuro’s cold light-blue eyes fixed on Tenko, and her gaze hardened. “That’s suffering for the sake of something you love. I’m telling you that you would suffer, and hate it too. I'm saying you don't _want_ to be a soldier. In fact... in an ideal world, there wouldn't be any such _thing_ as a soldier."

Was that the kind of thing the Ultimate Soldier should be saying?!

"If anything, you should ask Junko. She always knows what to do."

* * *

“An unsurprising recommendation, given those two sisters seem welded together at the hip. Not that Tenko can disapprove of strong, supportive female bonds. However, Junko, well. Fashion models will not help Tenko on the road to her recovery! So, after considering all of the other options carefully… Tenko finally tried Nekomaru. You saw what happened then.”

“I’m sorry things turned out like that,” Chihiro said. “I mean. If you want help, and don’t mind guys, I could maybe talk to Mondo and Ishimaru?”

“I doubt one’s character, and the other’s ability. If either of them had both, then Tenko might accept your generous offer. As it is, don’t bother.”

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Angie remarked. “Ever. Angie is worried. Tenko, whatever happens, please don’t lose hope! We’re all here for you. If necessary, we’ll figure out how to train you back up into a beast ourselves!” She reached out, and pulled Tenko into a hug. “There, there.”

Normally, being that close to the warmth and softness of a pretty girl would cause blushing and stuttering. However, instead, Tenko just looked away from her all-loving embrace. “Have any of you ever been in a fight before?” She wondered, sweeping her gaze across the Black Hats.

Shuichi rubbed the back of his head, just like Kaito. “Well.”

Chihiro shrugged haplessly. “There was this guy online when I broke his killstreak…”

Angie admitted, her high voice rumbling as vibration straight through her chest and into Tenko, “Nobody on Angie’s island would dare raise even their voices to her. Much less a fist, _soooo_ nope.”

Mikan raised her hand timidly. “Um, is it called a ‘fight’ if only one side is punching and kicking? Even if the other has curled into a ball and is begging for mercy?”

“Sadly,” Chihro replied, deadly serious, “In some places, yeah. It is in fact still treated as ‘a fight’.”

There was no way to misinterpret that, from either girl. They spoke from deeply personal experiences. Tenko’s eyes fell to the white bed sheet covering her body. She’d built herself up to protect girls from this very sort of thing, right? Angie let her go and attached to Mikan instead, causing another near-panic attack. “Oh, Mikan! Chihiro!” Neither could escape the Hug Zone. “You two are never alone! You must keep going, for the sake of love!”

“L-Love? I have to keep going because of love?” Mikan asked.

‘The love of all your friends here. And, well. Okay! Angie Plan Time.”

Oh, good.

“Two items, Tenko. First! You should consider becoming Atua’s Champion. It’s a title from my home bestowed on a powerful fighter, who will defend the weak and downtrodden. Defender of the faith, protector of the light. Well, that’s a little grandiose, but it’s like, super cool. And I think you could be this island’s Champion.”

Tenko stared at her. “T-Tenko will consider this very generous offer.”

“What’s the second item?” Shuichi wondered, stroking his chin.

“Everyone should totally give Tenko some breathing space! We’ve made it clear that we’re all here for you. It seems like you might want to be alone, so everybody but Mikan should, like, come with me. Let’s go somewhere else, and keep on with what we were doing originally!”

“Everybody but me?” Mikan echoed meekly.

“Yeah. You gotta make sure Tenko’s really fine, of course! Afterwards, just meet back up with us at the supermarket! We’ve totally got to interview a new applicant to the Black Hats! Bye-onara!” Just like that, Angie was shoving Chihiro and Shuichi outside, in spite of their protests. When push came to shove, Angie’s wide, extra-steady base and energy won out over a pair of skinny nerds. Mikan protested, too. Yet in the end, she was left in her own cabin, with Tenko in her bed.

Just the two of them.

Things were quiet for a while as Mikan did, in fact, dutifully run another examination of Tenko. She did her best to check for further internal bleeding. “I-If I had anything like proper equipment, I’d be sure, but you display no symptoms of further internal damage.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Tenko replied, listless and not even trying to hide it now that the others were gone.

It was difficult to speak with a delicate girl when you were Tenko Chabashira. Not impossible, but it added an extra layer of difficulty. When Tenko was already privately baffled by a lot of social interactions. Tenko was well aware she was like a bull in a china shop.

"I-In any case, Usami was able to d-determine that you didn't sustain significant injuries," Mikan reported. "In fact, I can't actually, um, determine why you fainted just from that. Or what is causing your low pain tolerance."

"That one's easy. Tenko isn't all that strong."

"P-P-Please don't say that! Er." Mikan froze under Tenko's surprised look. "I mean, um. Clearly, you're very strong. Since you've saved me several times by now. And, uh, th-that time you carried me to safety..."

Ah, yes. The princess carry. While Mikan had been fidgeting and whining the whole time, Tenko couldn't help but consider it a cherished memory.

"Tenko was referring to, like, strength of heart."

"Oh. I'm sorry! I wish I wasn't so slow-witted, or I'd have gotten that! Nngh..."

Tough crowd.

"Sorry, Mikan. You're going to tell Tenko to take it easy, and recover. But Tenko can't back down."

"Hm? Wh-What do you mean?!"

"As mentioned before, Tenko isn't... strong. If Tenko trains more, then surely, she can become strong. So that's all there is to it."

"I st-still don't understand. I’m sorry, but I can’t understand the way you p-p-push yourself!"

"Well. Think of it this way. How did Mikan become the Ultimate Nurse?"

Mikan stared at the ground, hands rubbing together nervously. "Eh? Um, well. To be honest, I just... got really good at patching people up. When they were left all alone, and had nobody else to help them. When they were degraded, humiliated, tormented. When they were kicked around and beaten savagely. That's how I learned all these things. That’s how I learned so very much."

That was so unsubtle, even Tenko picked up on the real meaning beneath those haunted words. The very fact that Mikan was willing to divulge that much to her was a sign of trust, but Tenko couldn’t feel good to hear it. It should have never happened. It was unforgivable. Hearing that kind of thing would, naturally, get Tenko getting some fire back in her belly. She didn’t feel quite so listless.

Now, anger coursed through her, and she sat up. "Nngh. Disgusting. Absolutely intolerable. Degenerate filth, treating a girl like this..."

That sort of assumption was just what could be expected from Tenko even then. That her, the loud and brash her, had taken a hit, though. Recent events had chipped away at that absolute confidence and dogmatic belief.

After all, the lecture had been the longest that Himiko ever spoke to Tenko about anything.

"Um. I'm terribly sorry for my rudeness, but that's not quite... accurate."

“Tenko won't hear any excuses for degenerate bully males!"

"T-They weren't all boys, though. Um, in fact, most of the people who really played those silly pranks on me, were, um. Female."

"Heh. You must think Tenko is... absurd. Or insane. For the beliefs I hold so dear. The way I refuse to compromise. It wouldn't be surprising if you thought that was dumb, right?"

"N-N-N-Not at all! You always speak with such force. Such conviction. I don't know about 'degenerate males', but you have that kind of strength at least! The strength to be strong. The strength to never back down. Um. Yeah." If Tenko was having some social anxiety and her heart was going doki-doki, she could only imagine what Mikan herself, a nervous stress-ball of a fluff, was going through.

"If Tenko has any strength, it's only due to Master’s teachings."

"M-Master?"

"Mhm. My Master. The supreme one in the art of Neo-Aikido! My teacher. And above all, an excellent, strong friend."

"A-And this Master is a m-man?"

"I mean, uh." That always tough to explain, since people naturally thought that Master was a male. At least to a layperson, that might have sounded alright, but it was a silly thing to assume. After all, Master wasn't like a degenerate. He didn't just want to use girls for their bodies, or abuse them, or keep them down. Yet, of course, he presented himself and was seen as a man. “On the surface, yes. He is a male, like all those degenerates. Beneath it all, though, he doesn’t have any of that… rot, that terribleness. In fact, I think of him as an honorary girl, because he’s that much of a good person.”

“Like Shuichi? P-Perhaps that’s a way to go. B-Build a friendship, whatever that means, too?”

Tenko felt like she’d been struck by lightning.

Mikan wiggled nervously. “A-Also. H-Have you decided to reconsider y-your thoughts about males-”

“Of course, Mikan. Tenko can’t go through all that, just to keep the same exact outlook on life and everything. Even Tenko is capable of changing and growing, a bit. If Tenko has to. Tenko guesses.” Mikan smiled in relief, until Tenko continued. “Since ‘men’ can’t be good. Maybe, Tenko can just make Nekomaru another ‘honorary female’! Thank you, Mikan!”

“T-T-T-That wasn’t quite what I-”

Tenko sprang to her feet. “You’re a genius! There’s no time to waste!”

“I-Is it good to rush back to the guy who beat you up?”

Valid concern to express. For people who weren’t Tenko Chabashira, the Ultimate Aikido Master! “I told you already, right? Tenkos die if they can’t keep moving forward. That’s just the way it is!”

Mikan gave the only answer she could. “G-G-Good luck.”

Even if she was on a losing streak?

Even if the world questioned her ‘unique’ attitudes?

Even if it felt like fate itself was dead-set against her, delivering reversal after reversal, failure and humiliation?

Tenko would never give up! She would never stop moving forward!

Even in situations where she ‘should’ give up, she would keep fighting, and struggling, and looking for any way to do something. Even if progress was slow going. Even if it meant going against the things she’d always believed in. It was more important that she kept going and never stopped. Never looked back.

Only forward, towards the future.

_“Who is that outside?! Why are you knocking on the damn door while I’m tryna take a **SHIIIIIIT**?!?!”_

A bright, shining future full of hope.

Once Nekomaru got out of the honey bucket, it was time to show just how far she was willing to go for this. “Tenko is serious about her request, Mister Nekomaru. Tenko will now show you the extent of her resolve!”

“Oh ho? Back for round two so quickly? If that’s what you wish, then-”

“Tenko wants to become stronger! For herself… but also for others! It is not merely because Tenko wishes to gain power for its own sake. Power is a means to an end! To achieve her goals, Tenko will climb any mountain. Sit beneath any freezing waterfall. Take on any opponent of any level.”

“Really?” Nekomaru was taken aback. He quickly recovered, and got loud and shouty. Tenko took this as a good sign. **”THEN TELL ME, GIRLIE. WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR GOAL?! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”**

Tenko took a deep breath, in and out. “Tenko is Tenko! Tenko will protect all the girls on this island, with her fighting ability! If the Ultimate Hunt finds us, or the traitors are real, or any of that, then Tenko will stand and fight! More than that, though. The Black Hats need somebody who can stand up for them, physically! Angie has a strong force of will, but attitude doesn’t always stop abusers. Tenko’s fist will be the final line of defense. To ensure that Chihiro and Mikan must never go through more painful memories! They already have far too many!”

Tenko clenched her fist tightly. “Especially… Mikan. Tenko wants to become the sort of person that Mikan can be proud of. That’s not a road Tenko considered going down before now, although some of the path is obvious. Getting tougher, protecting her. However. Her, and Himiko, are both... important to Tenko. Both of them think that Tenko’s… beliefs are ‘stupid’. It’s just that Himiko was willing to tell me that to my face!”

“Pitiful. **SO THE GIRLS YOU LIKE DON’T AGREE WITH YOU, AND YOU’RE JUST GONNA CHANGE YOUR BELIEFS ON A DIIIIME?!** The fuck is that shit?! Speak loud and clear, and sound off!”

“Hell no! You are still, and will always be, _disgusting_ in various ways!” Tenko proclaimed, right in his face. “Tenko will _never_ forgive degenerate males. Tenko will fight for a world in which there _are_ no degenerate males, because they’ve all been exterminated or driven off.”

**“OH YEAH? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?! WHAT ABOUT SHUICHI?!”**

“He is… not degenerate. Tenko knows that, for the same reason she knows that you are not, either. The same reason she knows that you were holed up in your cabin because you felt such intense remorse at leaving Tenko in such a state, even if she attacked you first, oh big macho man. Because of Tenko’s own fighting ability! She can ‘read’ people after fighting them. Even a single blow can reveal so much about a person. The reason I came back, above all else, is the same reason that you’re hearing me out right now! Tenko wants to believe her friends, and herself. Most especially, she can trust in her own Neo-Aikido! You’ve felt its power, even though I couldn't land my strike on you!”

Nekomaru finally just burst out into peals of boisterous laughter. _“Hahahaha!_ I suppose that’s true enough. Well, if you’re willing to go that far, then _shit_. Can I possibly decline? I can take you on as an 'athlete' of sorts, and mold you into a true fighter! Mind, body, and spirit!”

Tenko let out a sigh from her built-up tension, and returned his smile. “Thank you, filthy male.”

Tenko still wasn’t sure about this whole new arrangement. About a lot of things. Her ‘teacher’. His personal habits. Her own self. Despite her confident public mask, she was plagued with nothing but doubts lately.

However, she wasn’t sitting on her butt. Not ever. She’d keep moving forward, until she could be confident in herself.

Even if she had to make a contract with a devil.

Or a male.

Six of one, half dozen of the other.


	7. 1-8b. Do You Wanna Hang? (Maki)

Maki Harukawa went out after dark.

It helped her avoid people.

She'd planned to go out tonight. Then this persistent guy showed up, and dragged her along.

One of the other three people on the island who, like Maki, claimed to have no memory of their Ultimate talent. The spiky-haired Hajime Hinata. Dressed in his usual white button-up shirt and necktie, along with slacks and loafers. All he needed was to tear the sleeves to look like a real shipwrecked survivor from the movies.

She told him from the start that his chances were zero. He feigned ignorance, which was fine. It didn't matter what strategy he was using on her. Maki wasn't a person who got close to others. If he wanted to spend some time with her, though, she had no way of stopping him currently without it being a huge pain.

The weirdo even brought gifts. What could she do? Just tell him to shove that delicious-looking slice of Astro Cake up his ass? No way. If he was really such a sucker that he just gave people stuff, Maki would reap the benefits.

Somebody want to walk and talk, for its own sake, with her, was baffling. Maki presumed it was just part of some weird guy thing. Or a long-term plan she couldn't grasp yet. It was just like that other guy, the even more annoying one. Or his partner in crime, the blonde pianist. Was Maki just a magnet for busybodies?

"What is it about people with that hair spike?" Maki wondered aloud as she walked down the tarnished, blast-scarred sands of Tranquility Beach. She spoke with her usual amount of tact. The amount people who bothered her deserved. "Is 'idiot hair' more literal than I thought?"

He didn't even have an amusing reaction. Kaito Momota, self-proclaimed Luminary of the Stars, would at least get fired up when she called him an idiot. Often. Probably because he knew in some part of his eggplant soul that it was true. Makoto and Hajime were a different story. They either told her she was being rude, or refrained from commenting at all. But it didn’t deter them. They were persistent.

"Maybe it's just that we're the kinda people who want to get to know everyone in the island, no matter what," Hajime said. He had that awkward frozen smile thing on his face again. Gross.

_At least try to hide your weakness._

"I get it. So it's not anything personal. You don't actually care about me."

Hajime frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"When you need to collect Hope Fragments, you go around to everyone. You try to get everyone to work together. Not for its own sake, but basically because it's Usami's weird form of homework. Like it's an obligation. Same thing with the flashback lights, right? That's why you guys were checking up on everyone, so it wouldn't interfere with your precious progress."

Could he really say Maki was wrong? Hajime looked away, out towards the gently rolling waves of the ocean. Apparently not.

The water looked like it had caught fire.

Finally, Hajime spoke up. "I can't deny that we're working together because Usami's pushing us along. What's the alternative, though? Sit around? Be a bunch of loners? Act like we're not in it together?" Maybe a thought had made its way all the way to that spiky antenna that held his brain- "Maki, the world's out to get us. We're all that’s left. Whether or not you like it, we have to live with each other here. We don't have any choice but to work together."

"So it doesn't matter what I think." She sighed. "Definitely selling me on the friendship angle there."

Hajime glared. There, some fire. Maybe that was a precursor to him fucking off. It did mean, like when she aggravated the other ahoge-wielders, that she was in for a large volume of speeches, though. It was like poking a skunk and getting sprayed.

"You know I'm not Usami's biggest fan. And it's for the same reasons you've still got reservations. It's the same thing that connects us, Maki. The reason I do, genuinely want to be friends and talk about stuff. Our memories is a big one. I still don't think Usami's put it all on the table. Hell, it might even be that she has the best of intentions, but that still rubs me the wrong way. Trying to control everyone, like our fussy mom. Trying to shrink-wrap the world, and avoid arguments? Thinking she knows better than everyone? I don't know if I can ever forgive that kind of thinking."

"That's rich, coming from you. Try and hide it, but there's that stink on you, just like them. At the end of the day, you're an optimist."

"You say that like you're accusing me of some horrible thing."

"You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Hajime. Look what happened from you wanting to get into HPA so badly, like you told me before. You wound up out here. Stuck with a bunch of strangers. Without your memories, but with half the planet wanting you dead. Nice work."

Maki reached the jagged rocks which formed one side of Tranquility Beach's natural border. The point where the shorefront stopped obliging the Ultimates. She turned around, and saw him following, keeping a respectful distance. Hajime looked troubled. He was likely to leave now, and maybe he'd even reconsider his stupid way of thinking.

Not that she cared if he went off and got in trouble. That was his problem.

"Did you think any more about the flashback?" He asked, instead of leaving.

Hard to avoid it. "I won't be much help. It's literally just me guessing here."

"No, it might be really important," Hajime said, eager for a subject change that didn't involve him continuing to get grilled. "I mean, you, I, Rantaro, and Kyouko are the only ones who saw the meteors. And all that other stuff."

"The Future Foundation, and the Remnants of Despair." Maki closed her eyes. "The names show how they want to appear to outsiders. Future Foundation is obvious. Future is a positive word you can just spam so people assume you want to make things better. It's vague, which makes it even better for that purpose."

"But the Remnants of Despair are another story," Hajime tapped his chin. He could at least pick up on her train of thought with little delay. Otherwise, it would have been even more annoying to explain things to him. "Why would any group associate themselves with a word like 'despair'?"

"It was just a news report you heard, right? Consider that source might have been biased against them. It's at least a possibility that both groups have positive sounding names in reality."

"Yeah," Hajime said. "Hang on. ‘You heard’? Does that mean you didn't get that part of the flashback?"

"No." Maki shook her head. "This is why you're exhausting to talk to. You pick apart every little detail like I'm a puzzle to be solved. Anyway, my ultimate conclusion has to be-"

"Heh."

"I didn't mean it like that. The point is, the outside world may not be united against us, as we originally believed. If there's two big groups, and they wanted to make peace because of the meteors, then necessarily, they were fighting. None of us have ever heard of such ridiculous comic book organizations before. So it must have happened after what they call the Tragedy. The fall of Hope's Peak, and the beginning of the Ultimate Hunt."

"So it's not unreasonable to assume these groups formed because of the Hunt," Hajime said. "Or at least, in the post-Hunt world."

"In which case, we can conjecture that one of the groups supports the purge, while the other doesn't."

"So the Future Foundation's trying to stop the Ultimate Hunt?"

"We have no reason to assume that. It's just as likely the people behind the Hunt, because a movement doesn't spring up literally from nowhere with no leadership, took the popular buzzword to get normal people behind them. it's just as likely or unlikely that the Remnants of Despair are working against the Hunt and its goals. And, possibly, for us. In which case, they want to ‘bring despair’ to the Hunters and their agenda."

"I guess you're right. We can't really tell anything more than that. I mean, even getting this much out of it? Kyouko's said some of the same stuff as you, but even she didn't consider it from that angle. The outside world isn't just at war with us, but among themselves. Well, I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah," Maki said, averting her intense red stare. "People have been killing each other forever. It's likely that will never change. Speaking of that, have you thought about the traitors, Hajime? Everyone is already getting soft after just a week in this place." Maki cast her gaze out towards the ocean, and couldn't deny it was a gorgeous gilded cage. So pretty, so comfortable, and so distant from the everyday worries. The grim realities and necessity of life were as distant as the mainland. That was how it looked on the surface, at least. It was likely that the Ultimates were sharing this island with more sinister things, though. Maki was all too familiar with that kind of life. "They act like it'll never happen again. Like beating Monokuma put an end to it all."

"Honestly, I don't know what to think," He admitted. "We haven't gotten any leads. In fact, it doesn't seem like the traitors have done anything. Does that mean what Monokuma said was a lie?"

"It's possible," Maki admitted. "But absence of evidence doesn't equal evidence of absence. Just because somebody hasn't killed you today, doesn't mean they couldn't tomorrow. That's true even of an average, normal person, much less an Ultimate, and much less some trained killer working for the Ultimate Hunt."

"That's not wrong. Society is all about knowing that, but still going to bed believing it just won't happen," Hajime said. “Sonia’s right. Since we’re going to be forming a community, people need to not just be paranoid and live in fear all the time.”

"Listen to you. Belief without cause is a lie." Maki shrugged. "If it's not real and we don't react to it, nothing happens. If it's not real and we do react to it, we worry and get stressed out for nothing, and waste some time. If it's real and we react to it, we may stop the enemy. But if it's real and we do nothing..."

"Then we'll be... killed maybe, just like the other Ultimates," Hajime sighed. "I won't believe _that_ , though. I'll never believe it. Never can escape a heavy conversation with you, huh?"

"Nobody asked you to come bother me over and over. Even if you were hoping I was a budding conversationalist, you can see that's clearly not true."

"I don't know, talking with you is interesting. Even if it's tough to think about this kinda stuff. How are you so comfortable discussing this like we'd talk about the weather, Maki?"

"What's the point of asking me that? I told you, the past is off-limits."

"That's true, sorry."

Maki rolled right along, she was used to doing that. "There's another possibility that I haven't heard anyone talking about. But as soon as our memory issues began, I had to consider it. What if the traitors have forgotten?"

"Forgotten?"

"If something, or more likely, somebody, can mess with our memories of the academy and talent, why not that too? What better defense could you have against being accused or suspected than legitimately being innocent, to the best of your own knowledge? It completely prevents you from getting nervous, betraying secrets, or acting in weird ways."

"I wish you hadn't thought of that, Maki. I can't rule it out. And if anybody was going to end up being the traitor..."

"It could be one of the four with advanced memory loss," Maki nodded. "That's what the others are going to say if you bring this up, anyhow. So will you talk with them about it?"

"I mean, of course."

"Even if it leads people to stop trusting you?" Maki's burning ruby-red eyes fixed on him, intense, searching for something in his expression. Maki, despite how much she didn't want to be around people, picked up a lot of signals from them. As part of her work back in the outside world, she had to tell when the winds were about to change, or somebody was lying. As far as she could tell, Hajime wasn't lying to her.

"That's not going to happen. I don't know what's in my lost memories, but I know being a traitor isn't."

That just meant he wasn't faking it; he really did have such a childish perspective, after all. "Listen to you." Maki sighed. "Okay, I'll play. What happens if one of the many 'friends' you've been making turns out to be a traitor all along? What if you've been close to one or both of them, without even realizing it?"  
  
"That's something else I won't believe, no matter what. Even if you show it to me, even if it's true, then..." Hajime clenched his fist. "Then I'll deal with it when the time comes."

"I guess if that is true, then all we can do is wait for Usami to..."

Both of them realized it at the same moment, and their eyes widened.

"The Flashback Lights," Hajime said. "The memory recovery program. Usami's goal this whole time has been to keep us here, and get us to recover our lost memories and get along together. If you're right, though, and the traitors suppressed it or got their minds wiped or whatever..."

"It's possible one of these Flashback Lights will make a friend into an enemy, just as easy as that." Maki snapped her fingers. "Of course, that's a big leap. It relies on several different conditions all being true, and we've got no evidence."

"Even so, I never thought of that. That would be one hell of a dirty trick to play."

"The worst part is that we have no way of knowing until it happens. That's not going to be enough to persuade everyone to stop using the lights. Maybe some people would stop, but that's worse in a way. We've both seen what a hassle it is to be on different pages from the others."

Hajime nodded. "So we just have to keep going, and hope it turns out okay."

Their conversation died off. Some people felt the driving need to fill any silence with noise. Not actually saying anything, just making mouth-noises. Maki certainly wasn't that type of person, and fortunately, neither was Hajime. The two of them walked the length of the beach, and then ended up going back up the exit ramp.

"Where to?" Hajime asked.

"The supermarket. I was already planning to go there tonight. Since you're here, though, the least you can do is carry some stuff for me."

He agreed without any protest. "Sure."

Maki was grateful the path was dead at this time of day. They didn't encounter another living soul until they reached the island's main supply depot, Rocketpunch Supermarket. Even then, a few of the other Ultimates shopping around didn't require Maki to so much as spare them a word. So she didn't. She picked out replacements for the food and drink stashed in her room, as well as a few other miscellaneous items like deodorant. In this tropical heat and humidity, it was a precious resource.

The blissful silence couldn't last forever.

"Hey, Maki. If the past is off limits, how about the future? What's your plans for when we beat the Ultimate Hunt, finish Usami's program, and get back to Japan?"

He made it sound so easy. It really was no different than that guy's empty boasting. "I haven't thought that far ahead. I won't know what I'd want to do until I remember my talent, right? Same for you."

"That's true. I guess in that way, it's hard to make any plans."

That, and the fact that they were all more likely to join the Hunt’s pile of victims than put an end to it, sitting out here twiddling their collective thumbs. "Of course, you've considered the idea that you just don't have a talent."

"It's possible, but not likely. I mean, we're Ultimates, right? If not, we wouldn't be on this island."

That one visibly bothered Hajime, which in turn didn’t sit entirely right with Maki. “I mean it when I say you’re just wasting your time,” She said. “As you can tell, I’m no good with people. It just doesn’t work out.” It was the closest thing the red-eyed girl had to an apology.

“Sometimes I just want to hang out with somebody like Ibuki and take my mind of all this stuff. I always come back to it later, though. There’s no way I can just put aside these issues. And if I want to talk about that kind of thing, you’re the woman to see.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. You notice little things, but you also have an idea of the big picture. You think strategically, which is different from how I go about stuff. So your perspective is important. It helps me look at everything in a new way. You don’t like small talk or frivolous things, which can be off putting. However, combined with how smart you are, I always feel like the stuff we talk about is important. Even if I’m barely keeping up.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Hajime laughed out loud. “Plus, compared to some of my own classmates, you’re like a two out of ten on the ‘annoys me’ meter. You’re far from anything special when it comes to being rude or unpleasant.”

That was a special night.

It was the first time since waking up in this mad place that Maki Harukawa cracked a smile, in return to Hajime’s own dumb expression. It really was an infectious thing. That, and her just being taken by total surprise by hs answer. She could tell it was real, that it came from the heart, because if he was lying, he’d pick something better and more presentable than that unvarnished truth.

Even if Hajime wasn’t as skeptical as he fronted for others, at least he was loyal to the truth. If the rest of the Scooby Gang went too far, hopefully the porcupine would help reel them back in to reality. Assuming everybody didn’t start to hate or suspect him, even if just for the way he acted contrary to the group opinion. What would happen if that went down? How would Hajime react to feeling what it was like for everyone to treat you like their enemy, if you didn’t bear them any malice?

“That’s how you comfort a girl, Hajime? I’m amazed any of the women in your class will even speak to you. Much less give you their underwear.”

“That- Maki! You know that’s just a dumb rumor! Nagito thinks it’s funny, so he tells people that, but he’s the only one who actually… Uh. Nevermind. Forget that. I’ll see you later, Maki.”

“Yeah, you’d better go before I learn more things I can’t ever un-learn.”

That was supposedly the end of it, and Maki found her way back towards her cabin as darkness covered the land like a blanket. Since she’d done her thing already, that meant she was done. What she wasn’t expecting was for Hajime to show back up, with one final question.

“I forgot earlier! Maki, can I expect to see you at the festival this coming Friday?”

Maki considered. She really did, rather than just turn it down out hand. She wasn’t much for social events of any kind. Hajime had given her some things to think about, though. Would it really be so bad? That other guy would probably be there, too. In fact, there was no doubt he’d continue playing leader, and shouting orders at people. Probably while drinking a lot. That was bound to have its own entertainment value.

Eventually, she reached her decision and expressed it in the purest, and most Maki way.

“Probably not.”

Hajime continued to surprise her, when he just nodded happily, and said, “Awesome, thanks.”

“What?”

“You started out at a hundred percent negative, right? An answer like that implies you’re at least open to the possibility. So hey, progress.”

Maki rolled her eyes. “You really are like him. Careful you don’t strain your shoulder from patting yourself on the back.”

“That’s probably why he only puts one arm through the coat.”

Heh.

The only thing that was waiting for Maki if she made it back to the outside world was an early grave. Her own daily life, for lack of a better term, would just resume. Assuming somebody didn’t make good on the Ultimate Hunt’s goals. It was something Maki had actively tried not to think about. In some ways, being stuck on this island was a blessing to her.

However, if she spent her whole life there, that would mean she’d never get back to the orphanage. Was that something she could live with, after working so hard to keep it safe, to keep everyone safe? All those kids, even?

Sheesh. Kids, what a pain to take care of. Little brats, they just started hanging around her and clinging to her all on their own, without consulting her to see if she was cool with that. Maki had to admit. She wanted to see them again too, more than anything.

How long had it been? How much time had been stolen from her? What would those orphans look like now? Were they grown up, going to school themselves? Only one way to find out. So Maki Harukawa, Ultimate ???, wouldn’t give up until she could go back where she belonged. Even if it meant going back into that world too. A world gone mad with violence and killing.

At least this island wasn’t like that. For now. She knew better than anyone how this could become a blood-soaked paradise in an instant.


	8. 1-8c. Salvation [NSFW] (Chihiro)

Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer, had a problem.

Actually, Chihiro had a bunch of problems.

Like being a short, weak, person-shaped wreck!

Everything about Chihiro was fragile. People called that cute. They made metaphors about baby animals and angels. Chihiro was some pretty thing that needed protecting. ‘Perfectly suited’ for a girl, right? It was only supposedly natural that an underdeveloped girl would have that kind of appearance. Thin all around, but flaring out a bit at the hips. Ghostly pale skin. Lanky arms and legs. Super short, too. One of the shortest Ultimates.

If lives were like flickering flames, Chihiro was a tiny candle always on the verge of going out. Prone to sickness, lacking emotional or physical strength. And that soft, gentle voice, too. A voice rarely heard above more boisterous and energetic classmates. In a way, it was fitting for such a pitiful existence.

An existence that was founded around a big lie.

Getting swept away to Gopher Island might have been the best thing to ever happen to Chihiro. Especially given that the alternative was dying at the hands of the Ultimate Hunt. Considering how weak Chihiro Fujisaki was, it was amazing that hadn’t happened already!

Usami was keeping Chihiro’s secret, thankfully. Given how much the robotic rabbit knew, and her connection to Hope's Peak Academy, she had to know. Yet she kept the farce going. Right down to Hope Pad profiles and cabin decor.

Combine that with the great memory mix-up? Whatever it was and however it happened? Chihiro was home free! Given the quiet, unassuming, humble nature of the Ultimate Programmer, and that slight figure and build, there would never have been one hint of suspicion.

Shame that the one sanctuary from all the danger was about to get a lot less welcoming. Like in the past, all it took was one person learning the truth, for things to break down.

Everyone else had already left after swimming practice yesterday. That fateful, hateful day.

Leaving just Chihiro and Angie Yonaga, the Ultimate Artist, leader of the Black Hats, alone. In the women's locker room of Miss Asahina's Ultimate Lab. Chihiro got careless, and sat down on a bench while Angie was nearby.

Classic mistake.

Angie was known far and wide as a lap-invader fluff. She had little concept of things like 'personal space'. Her upbringing on her island was a world away from any Japanese person's cultural frame of reference. It was life of wild, unchecked passions, hedonism, and the simple, honest pleasures. Pleasures Chihiro was entirely denied.

After a long, hard day where Chihiro had seen a lot of girls, all wearing very little, well. Certain things were inevitable. Literally! It was a physiological reaction. One that Chihiro’s supercomputer-class brain could explain in exacting detail. Yet it could do nothing to stop it. To stop from getting shamefully, pathetically hard when Angie rested her huge, generous backside atop Chihiro’s secret. The soft, pillowy pressure and warmth, rubbing right there? That was that! Especially with Chihiro pinned there, unable to escape, or think of any convincing lie.

Understanding without power was truly the greatest curse, huh?

The jig was up. As he was forced to confess to Angie before she got off him, Chihiro Fujisaki was really, in spite of all outward appearance, a boy.

Yep, really!

Sorry to all ‘her’ fans online!~

In fact, sorry to everyone who Chihiro had lied to, or disappointed and let down.

A list that entirely encompassed every single person that he’d ever met. Especially his own parents! They loved him so much, and all he repaid them with was a freak for a son. Mom and especially Dad were always so supporting. Arranging with Hope’s Peak to keep it all hidden. Because those were about the only people who would understand.

If, just for example, Tenko ever found out. H _o boy._ That would probably make past beatings feel like a slap on the wrist!

Society on the outside certainly wouldn’t and didn’t tolerate this kind of aberrant behavior. Chihiro had found exactly two types of reactions to learning his gender. From anyone who wasn't actually related to him, or a member of the teaching staff.

Angie was kind. Maybe she wouldn't choose option one, and beat him for 'tricking' her or 'spying on the girls'. Since she hadn’t done that yesterday, she probably wouldn’t today. That was more the ‘immediate anger’ reaction. The supposed ‘heat of the moment’ that took away a girl’s civilized instincts, or something.

It was amazing what a normal, otherwise compassionate high school principal would accept as an excuse for beating the shit out of somebody. If that somebody was a boy in a dress!

Maybe he'd get off light, with option two. With just getting ridiculed, made fun of, or humiliated. The usual. Maybe some blackmail? That would be kinda pointless, though, given the global disasters. The world was already in abject chaos. So take whatever possessions or casino chips that passed as currency, or whatever you wanted, Angie! It wasn’t like it made any difference.

Chihiro was like a coiled spring, and the pressure had only built for years without end. By this point, he was so wound up, that just having his secret revealed was, in a strange way, a relief. It was the same liberating sense of freedom that came with being released from all your worldly concerns.

Like if you just so happened to want to die. Or something, Chihiro wouldn’t know anything about that.

No clue what was going to happen next. Being swept up in the winds of fate, with no rudder and no course. No idea of the future, and no hope to rely upon. Standing on the very edge of the cliff. Sandwiched between the devil, and the deep blue sea.

There was really only one way to describe such a feeling. A feeling that had him smiling and laughing, all day until now.

**Despair.**

So he waited for Angie to reveal his secret.

But she didn’t.

Even though Chihiro rejected Angie’s pitch to convert. Which by all rights should have led immediately to punishment. Either physical, or just by telling everyone, and letting the group do as groups of people always did.

Maybe that explained the lack of punishment so far. Angie had made it clear without words that her ‘offer’ was really just another form of extortion. It was a new kind of thing, to be blackmailed not for money, or stuff, but for his very soul.

Honestly, if that was the price, he should have said ‘yes’ yesterday. Angie was letting him off light, whether or not she realized it. If all he had to do was agree to some magic fairy voodoo thing, well. Agreeing to believe in something that wasn’t real was dishonest, but he had no problem being a big lying piece of shit before now. Why suddenly grow a pair (ha ha, get it???) at the worst possible moment?

He was ready to correct that mistake now, and submit.

Angie made it clear that she’d be at the locker room again today, waiting for his final answer. Among with other, uh, very odd statements.

“Of course, anytime you need to release what’s been building up?~ Angie will happily assist her friend with that, too! Come to me anytime.”

_What?_

There was no way to misinterpret that kind of brazen offer, right? Not from an offbeat girl like Angie with her whole ‘island culture’ thing going on. Chihiro had to admit, that was a new one, too. Angie was just a pear-shaped box of surprises. Was the true thing Angie wanted to extort not his soul, but sex instead?

That was, uh. A little more _troublesome_ than just making him chant some words. It wasn’t the sort of thing a person could easily just be made to give up. Even for somebody who had already abandoned their dignity and pride years ago, going that far would be...

_Deep breaths, Chi._

Brooding over it accomplished nothing. Chihiro nervously shuffled beneath his green skirt and shirt. Grateful that everything was puffy and large, providing lots of mercifully covering slack.

It was true that he was pent up. He spent most of his time around gorgeous, friendly women. Plus Shuichi, and some of the other guys, of course. Chihiro couldn’t figure out a lot of things about himself, like who he ‘should’ be attracted to. So he just ended up going with ‘all of them’, oopsie! If he was already in the ‘freak’ bin, why not go all the way.

He didn’t dare masturbate even in his own cabin more than once in a while, though. Plus the thought of doing something like that was too embarrassing to contemplate, until he got too desperate. It wasn’t rational to expect somebody to bust on in at any second. Fear wasn’t a rational response, though.

He just had to enter the girl’s locker room. Which should have been a big no-no, but since he was a fraud, it was familiar.

When he did so, he saw a thankfully empty room. Just rows upon rows of lockers, with benches of questionable hygiene arranged for comfort and ease. The only person upon them, whose figure was fit to make the bench she was on quietly groan, was Angie, as promised.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she sprang to her feet like an action figure.

“Chihiro! I’m so glad you came.”

“H-Hello, Angie.”

At least she was dressed. Well, as dressed as Angie ever got. White bikini top and skirt, and her bright yellow jacket, which covered, well. Some of her deep brown skin. While leaving a lot more to be admired.

“Angie was worried you’d start to avoid her or something silly.”

Chihiro was used to adopting ‘feminine’ and ‘weak’ posture, but he made sure to be especially deferential. Like an animal submitting to their pack leader. “That wouldn’t do any good, would it? It’s already over.”

“Over?”

Chihiro stared at the wet tiles underfoot rather than meet her gaze. “You know what they say about telling lies? You give people power over you. You can reveal to everyone else that I’m a c-crossdresser. Then my life’s over. That means I’m willing to give you whatever you want to avoid that. Um, that’s basically what’s happening here.” Why was he explaining this to her?

“Angie could do that, it’s true.” She tapped the wooden handle of her paintbrush against her cheek. “But what would that accomplish?”

What?

“Accomplish?” Chihiro stared. “Um, well. To… punish me for refusing to worship Atua?”

“Hmm. Angie thought about it, after your defiance yesterday.” For a moment, her cheerful light-blue eyes were hooded. It looked like she was… taken with some kind of spirit. If Chihiro was being poetic. However, that passed like a fast-moving tropical stormfront. In a blink, she was back to normal. “But I immediately became ashamed of such a hurtful desire. There’s no way I could do that to you.”

“T-There isn’t?”

“Try not to sound shocked.” Angie puffed out her cheeks, hands on extra-wide hips. “Somebody born in your society might care about it more. Considering the stuff we do back on the island, wearing women's clothing is like less than nothing. Heck, just by wearing clothing, you’re ahead of the curve.”

What an island!

How you were raised as a kid largely dominated your worldview. People didn’t feel comfortable thinking about that. Especially when it came to important parts of their personality. Like, say, just for instance, gender expression. Or religious beliefs.

It wasn’t impossible for somebody to break out of that and do their own thing.

Like Chihiro had, they would pay a steep price for it.

He could hardly imagine Angie’s libertine existence. Free of the constant, crushing expectations and stress. Even what Chihiro considered a ‘normal’ person (not him!~) had to live with so many stresses and worries in this supposedly enlightened modern age. To him, that was ‘normal’, but she acted like it was a foreign concept.

“Angie has already said that we’re friends, right? Why would I destroy what we have over nothing? Angie didn’t have any friends back on the island. It’s like with Sonia, ya see?”

Chihiro nodded slowly. He forced himself not to dumb up or freeze. He had to keep thinking this through. That instinct already showed that he was no longer totally on edge. Or at least, from the way Angie was acting, a tiny speck of hope was re-igniting within this counterfeit maiden’s heart. “When… you’re the center of somebody’s faith, or a royal princess, then you’d have nobody ‘on your level’. I can only imagine it’s lonely.” Chihiro was no stranger to loneliness, either. Another thing about telling lies was that you needed to keep people distant to maintain it.

Or risk having it uncovered.

“Gopher Island is a chance, for both of us, to get a fresh start. To start something new,” Angie said. “For Angie, something more… personal. I can get to know each of my followers individually! If I get any, ehe. Like you~ That’s all Angie was thinking about, honest. No blackmail, no coercion. Atua just told me that you’d be open to his love.”

Was that possible?

“B-Because of my copious issues?” Chihiro sighed. “I guess I can see that. You know, I came here prepared to just knuckle under and say whatever prayer words you wanted me to.”

“But it would be a lie, right?” Angie pouted. “That’s no good. Can’t it be genuine belief instead?”

Chihiro took a long time to answer. They sat there, lit increasing in amber and red hues from the high windows letting in the evening’s setting sun.

“... In computer code, everything has to make sense or the system just crashes. I know you’re not too up on computers, and that’s fine. I’m just obsessed. Anyhow, they work off of math. That’s like, how they function, it’s not some magic spell. Math always has to add up. Um, literally. Like, it’s all just a bunch of ones and zeroes, and they can only be that. They can’t decide to be a two.” Chihiro shrugged. “I’m kinda the same way, ha. Ha. I’m sorry. I don’t want to insult you after you’ve basically protected my secret. I’m... grateful to you, Angie. More than I could ever put into words. But I just can’t… see Atua being real. It’s not something I can conceive of. Not without evidence.”

Angie puffed out her cheeks again. “Your view on this world is so limited. No, it’s not just you. Everyone keeps saying things are ‘impossible’ if they don’t line up with what they already know. Angie doesn’t know if such a thing as ‘impossible’... could possibly exist!”

Was that profound?

Chihiro wasn’t in the best state of mind, but things turning silly, after all the fear and worry and despair, got an actual meek chuckle out of him.

“Excellent! That’s better!” Angie leaped forward, and hugged him, nearly sending both of them toppling over. Them not falling to the floor depended, for a moment, on Chihiro’s strength and balance. Never a good idea to bet on that, but he managed. “Nyahaha! You’re so amazingly cute when you smile. It’s no wonder most people would just accept you as a girl at first glance.”

‘A-Angie?!” A girl pressing up against him again, engage panic mode-

She murmured, close up, low in his ear, “Atua is real, though. Angie can tell you about him, you can search your own feelings… and of course, Angie can prove it, too.”

“Y-You have proof? I mean, proving that there is a god, that kind of thing…”

“Maybe that’s a bit grand. For today, the goal is just to prove to you that there are things waaaay outside of your experience. Wonderful things. Things you should open your mind, heart, and body to experiencing. If Chihiro will admit that, and follow Angie? That would be simply divine. Of course, if you’re not convinced, you can leave whenever. Shall we begin?~”

Chihiro took a deep breath. “D-Do we have to do it while hugging?”

“Yes.”

Chihiro sighed, trying to bring his racing heart back under control, even as Angie blatantly rubbed up against him. “Fine… I promise, I’ll listen. You deserve th-that much. Gosh, please don’t rub up against me any more…”

“Sheesh. So sensitive… Ahem. So! Atua doesn’t just tell me about possible futures. He tells me about the past. Atua told me of your sorrow and pain. The word that comes up, again, and again, is ‘weak’.” Chihiro tensed up. “Growing up, you heard ‘even though you’re a boy…’ a whole lot. Boys are expected to be a certain way. And that’s really about it. If you can’t keep up, no matter how hard you try? It’s not like anyone will care, or give you a break. The only thing getting broken was you. The boys, they… no. The girls. The girls were always the roughest, right?”

“T-That’s right.” Chihiro hugged Angie back, pressing his face into her bare shoulder. He felt the softness, the warmth of her embrace, seeking as much of it as he could get against those cold, distant, painful memories. It was fine that this didn’t make any sense. He didn’t have to believe in the literal truth of spiritual stuff to admire Angie’s cold-reading skills. Or accept the embrace of a woman.

“So one day you wondered what it would be like to be a girl. Hmm. No, not literally wanting to become one, as much as that would ‘fit’. Maybe because it would ‘fit’ all those expectations, that’s why you never went that far? Or it’s just not what you feel is right. Presenting as a girl, though? It would resolve some problems. As long as you kept it secret. I see a string of school incidents, though. It’s really not easy to keep this kinda big secret, right?”

He nodded. “Japan isn’t the kind of easygoing place where I can just say I, you know, have something different from other girls,” Chihiro mumbled into her shoulder. “Once they encounter that, their mind’s made up. I’m a boy. A ‘degenerate male’, if you will. To be fair, while that is true, it makes trying to hide it tough.”

Angie didn’t giggle at Chihiro’s half-hearted joke, realizing perhaps it came from a place of deep hurting. It was clear that, underneath her happy-go-lucky facade lurked a deeper intelligence. One excellent at reading people. That had to be the explanation, after all. The reason she could pluck this information out of the air.

Her voice was low, even, and steady. In fact, it was like that time before. Chihiro glanced up, and saw those light blue eyes looking outwards. Not down at him, but towards the far wall. No, maybe beyond the wall, at something else.

Something more?

Impossible, of course. But the human mind was also exceptionally good at making itself believe any manner of thing. Even that a lost, confused boy, who didn’t feel much like ‘a man’ despite his physical age, should stay, and listen.

Nobody could read the past like that, or look into another person’s thoughts. That was one of the lonely things about being human. Mental patterns couldn’t just be downloaded and read by another person. Whatever happened in someone’s head was, clues and tells aside, permanently locked away. At least, until Chihiro’s groundbreaking research finally bore fruit…

That was something to think about another time. One trainwreck at a time.

Angie carried on, to more specific and alarming effect. “Let’s see. You moved around a lot in your high school years, and not by choice. Aoyama, then Roppongi, then… finally, Kamata High. Or rather, I think you’d call it Kamako? Kama High? Doing my best with these wierdo characters you spell everything with! Anyhow, that was the place where you managed to keep your secret. Until you graduated, and got scooped up by Hope’s Peak. Which, fortunately, was far more understanding than the public system. Your talent… No, it was the Headmaster’s kind nature more than anything. The way he looked you in the eye, with neither pity nor hatred, when you met him in his office…”

Chihiro froze up about three words into that and didn’t unfreeze until Angie released him. She stopped looking at the past, and instead looked right at him. Just like Headmaster Kirigiri had done, during that pre-enrollment interview. One of Chihiro’s last pre-island memories.

It was all just as Angie said.

**_How?_ **

This was more than the vagary of fortune telling or the occult. These were specific bits of very personal, and private, information.

Chihiro hated a lot of things about himself. Almost everything. However, his ability to think was the one area where he could be forgiven. But he had nothing. Unless Usami had decided to share his complete personal records with a stranger, while keeping his secret to everyone else?

Any other theories got even more absurd, quickly. Then there was the obvious one staring him in the face. The one he didn’t want to believe.

“Okay, okay. I give,” Chihiro submitted. “There’s more going on here than I can currently explain. No matter what I try to tell myself.” He sighed . “What happens now?”

“Yaay, Angie won! Ahem.” She poked his flat, unmasculine chest. “Now, for the other major issue. Chihiro has a choice to make! Angie wasn’t kidding about that _offer_ , you know~~”

“O-Offer?” Nice and smooth there, Chihiro. As ever.

“I can only imagine what years and years of self-denial would do to a person. Except that it can’t be good for ya. Angie is looking for that kind of thing now, and so is Chihiro, I think.”

“T-That kind of thing?!”

Angie stared at him. “Sweaty salvation, of course.”

“S-Sweaty salv-”

She put a finger to his lips.

“Atua is patient, Chihiro. But Angie is not. Angie wants what she wants, and she wants it now. So, let’s cut through all that stuff.” She shrugged off her coat, leaving it behind on a bench. Chihiro turned even more red, and turned around, as he saw her hands reach back to undo her white ruffled bikini top. Her voice came from behind Chihiro now, echoing cheerfully in the locker room.

“If Chihiro feels as Angie does, then follow me in when you’re ready. We’ll see what happens from there, the honest way. If Angie is wrong, and you don’t want this, then leave. Everything will go back to how it was before yesterday. Nngh… there we go, ahh. That feels so much better~”

Chihiro’s heart was up to a million miles an hour.

Just getting that kind of invitation from a girl was beyond his wildest fantasies. It was the kind of thing that happened in fiction. Not in his real life, given all the many difficulties and impossibilities. He was overwhelmed in every sense, and not able to say a word back. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

It wasn’t clear how long Chihiro just stood there, staring at his own locker.

Long after Angie left, and he had no reason to keep facing the wall. In fact, there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to stay at all. There was every reason for him to just go. To stop the situation, to detach himself. With his secret assured to some degree.

He could hear the echo of one of the showers in there going strong. The pitter-patter of a strong stream of hot water. Above it, Angie’s cheerful sing-song voice.

It was a lot louder than the part of him that wanted to run.

Chihiro took a deep breath.

He pulled off his small green shirt in one go.

Followed by the plain white cotton bra beneath. Hey, if somebody did get a peek at him somehow, it was better they see an underdeveloped girl than a guy’s bare chest.

That was the same reason that, after he undid his skirt and added it to the neatly-folded pile, Chihiro stepped out of a pair of strained light-green panties. Normally, womens’ underwear would be trouble. Logistically and socially. It was a little like binding a busty girl’s chest, and similarly necessary if they wanted to ‘pass’. It could be just as uncomfortable too, but handy to suppress issues. If he’d been wearing those instead of a swimsuit yesterday, this entire situation might have been averted.

Was that a good or bad thing? Given what was about to happen, this development...

No. Thinking about what-ifs was pointless. Chihiro, for the first time in ages, had made his own decision. To expand his horizons. To have somebody comfort him rather than treat him like a freak or a permanent victim. If Angie was really just going to offer that kind of amazing thing, why refuse?

This meeting spot made more sense now. Even if somebody stumbled upon this scene, girls showering, even together, wasn’t seen as unnatural.

Chihiro finally had nothing over his girly, wide-hipped frame but a fluffy white cotton towel. He gathered up what meager shards of his courage he could, and entered the humid, steamy realm of the women's showers. Even for somebody who passed as female, this was an unknown realm to him. Despite the fact that he’d finished out his high school days, he felt like a freshman on some crazy dare to sneak in, or a guy possessed of the strange, out-of-character urges of a certain nut, rather than an invited guest.

What a rush!

Angie wasn’t hard to find. He just followed her voice. She left her shower stall open, and the room was otherwise abandoned. Even Hina had gone home, after all. There was nobody but Angie.

Just Angie.

Just Angie, standing there. Being pelted by hot water. Her back was turned to him, and she was utterly bare. Her deep, rich brown skin looked flawless. Free of blemishes, smooth and soft. Really feminine, in fact, compared even to Chihiro. That went for her figure, too. Their bodies were similar. Except Angie’s was assembled with a lot more thickness down there. She had hips that widened out past her shoulders, and a particularly thick, enticing backside that wiggled about as she danced to a beat in her own head.

Sheets of water rolled down her like waterfalls, soaking white hair and brown skin. It swept along a torrent of bubbly white soap, too. The stark contrast of her hair and the soap lather, versus her dark complexion, was fascinating.

The soap, especially, well. Chihiro had a very powerful rig, but it was overclocking with lewd, exciting impulses he’d always suppressed. His overactive mind couldn’t help but notice how that white substance looked. Given the look on Angie’s face as she turned around to face him, she didn't mind his adoring, awe-struck gaze.

“You’ve come this far. Why not come feel what Angie has to offer?”

_Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly._

No, it wasn’t like that. Chihiro knew exactly what he was getting into. At the same time, had to idea what he was doing. He still had that intoxicating air of uncertainty, but it was no longer the feeling of a hopeless man given up. Now, it was more like a frontier stretched out before him. The unknown.

When she turned, he glimpsed her bare, modest, cute breasts. Topped with a pair of tiny, dark nipples. Her flat stomach and smooth back were always on display. However, they gained new context when everything around them was bare, too. The lines of her fit midsection trailed down, leading droplets of water inevitably towards the v between her thighs.

A tuft of snow-white hair matched the stuff on top of her head.

“I’m not sure, um, what to do…”

Angie nodded. “We’ll keep it mega simple today! Work you up slowly to the really good stuff. Just step inside, and accept Angie’s loving embrace. We’ll work together. No lies. No deceptions. No layers separating us. Especially all those silly clothes you guys all love so much. Just Angie and Chihiro.”

Just Angie and Chihiro.

Chihiro nodded meekly, taking the first steps of his new life.

He felt like a freckle-faced teenager, covering up his shameful erection, even as Angie had let him look freely. She didn’t object, although her eyes did hungrily dart over him as she set aside his towel. She licked her lips, reached out and hugged him. He might have passed out with any more anticipation, or blood rushing to various things, but Angie knew how to take the lead. Firm, but patient. As they pressed against each other, Chihiro was given precious time to adjust to that level of physical contact. The pressure of the water, of Angie’s arms, the sensation of their chests meeting, didn’t leave any spare room for self-doubt.

Once he could accept one stage, Angie advanced, moving forward boldly. “Angie isn’t going to stop unless Chihiro says something, or pulls away, or wants to leave. So you need to tell Angie right away. Yeah?”

“U-Understood.” Immediately, the cascade of sensory overload changed. He felt something different, below. Angie moved her legs. Using the height difference between them, she playfully clamped her thick, pillowy thighs around his dick. Chihiro’s eyes went wide, and he couldn’t help a pitiful moan from the new explosion of feeling. “Mmmh~ A-Angie, this is incredible…”

“Shhh. Good boy. You did what Angie wanted. So now, you will be rewarded. Angie can tell you’ve built up so much desire over time. She can feel it, here.” She squeezed him, just enough to send shockwaves of pleasure up and down his spine. He trembled like a leaf, hugging Angie tighter for support. Physical and emotional. Angie stood firm. “Please, use Angie’s thighs, and let it all out.”

Chihiro had never been inside a woman. He rarely considered what that might have even felt like, because it seemed like such an impossibility. Why think about flying to another solar system, or becoming an AI, or having sex? Heck, at the rate things were going, items one and especially two were far more likely to happen before three ever could!

Angie demolished the boundaries of ‘reality’ effortlessly.

This was the closest he’d get this fateful night to being actually in Angie, but that was fine. No, fine wasn’t the right term. Amazing worked better. Feeling how close Angie’s most private place was, Chihiro thought they were nearly touching. He could feel its warmth even through Angie’s body temperature, and the warm embrace of the endless waterfall on their bodies.

Her thighs were incredible. Strong, supple, holding the ability to grip and squeeze at will as she flexed up. She just held him at first, at a constant pressure. Letting him get used to that feeling. It took longer, because there was more to take in. Along with the strong smell of soap and Angie’s own natural, exotic island scent, there was the gorgeous sight of her bare body. Plus all the new sensations and feelings. Chihiro’s dick was surrounded on almost all sides. Only his desperately-throbbing head was out in the steamy, humid air of the shower. The rest was covered, even wrapped up, in Angie.

The warm, gentle squeezing grip all around him must have felt like being inside a girl, maybe. Somewhat. It’s what he imagined, at least. The pillowy softness giving way to hard pressure eventually, molding around Chihiro’s shaft. It set his imagination ablaze, like an appetizer to a whole wider sensual world.

After all, she’d promised to eventually work him up to the ‘really good stuff’. If this didn’t even quality as ‘really good’, then what could? Chihiro wasn’t sure his heart, or body, could survive. He was barely hanging on as it was.

Being led wasn’t so bad, if the person doing the leading was considerate. “Angie has had more than her share of males before. Chihiro is pretty impressive~” A-And impressed with… the size of his dick.

Chihiro’s only response to getting praised on his size, when it was always just a bothersome inconvenience to his crossdressing before, was to push his face into her shoulder. While blushing so heavily, he must have felt like a thermal blanket too.

He almost blurted out a request to stop, purely from panic, when things changed. When the steady, constant blanket of warm pressure began to move around. Angie’s thighs slid forward and back. Rather, her whole body moved. Slow, but certain of each moment, and careful not to slip on the shower mat. Angie set the pace. Chihiro gave himself over to her, and was rewarded with sensations he’d barely ever even dreamed of.

Saying Chihiro f-f-f-fucked Angie’s thighs was wildly inaccurate, then. Or even that he was “using” them like she offered. First off, Angie was slow, patient, and gentle throughout. That didn’t line up with Chihiro’s virginal thoughts about the rough, coarse term ‘fucking’. She was also in charge, and the only one who moved. Chihiro had enough to worry about just struggling not to cum instantly. He probably should have been doing something back. But Angie gave him leave this time (already, his mind and body both hoped this was just the first of many times, yes) to just delight in brand-new physical pleasures.

Which meant that if anything, Angie’s thighs claimed him and didn’t let go of his dick. Not once did she let up. Her grip around him in every way only tightened. He was enveloped within Angie’s arms, legs, and overflowing spirit.

With every cute, girly whimper she milked from him, Angie looked and sounded more self-assured. In fact, she squeezed his shaft more in response to those noises of pleasure. She used his uncontrolled noise-making, as well as the racing beat of his heart, as a guide. Alongside that throbbing. The pressure built up quickly, and Chihiro’s self-control was at an all-time low.

“Angie can feel you’re close already. That’s nothing but natural. Don’t try to last long or anything silly right now. Angie just wants you to release a nice, big load. As much as you can, now~ That’s why Angie has been working on it so patiently. Don’t worry about the mess, we’re in the shower after all~ Offer up your life energy to Atua.”

Angie’s thighs were going to take that ‘life energy’, not Atua. Well, maybe they were one and the same.  
  
Chihiro felt a slick, cooler moisture rubbing up against the top of his shaft. Distinct from the rivers and droplets of warm shower water. As before, he’d been moved to the upper part of Angie’s thighs. Close enough for Angie to be rubbing her pussy on him, perhaps? W-Was that how it worked? He couldn’t see, but he was developing a feel for Angie’s body with nothing but his own feeble groping, and the sensations from his shaft. Especially when he squeezed his eyes shut like a girl, trembling. Giving every bit of his waning focus and energy just to stay on his feet. All he could do was go by the other sensations, which enhanced each of them even more.

To his pleasure-starved mind and body, every little thing was a revolution. The smell of soap would always, for the rest of his days, be closely indexed in his mind with pleasure.

Chihiro had no way to know what was going to happen a minute later, much less that far down the road. While Angie probably had some idea of what to do, even some kind of plan, that was all for Future Chihiro to deal with.

Present Chihiro just had one job.

Like Angie demanded, he had to cum his brains out.

Even for a weakling like Chihiro, who barely counted as a boy, much less a man, with Angie’s encouragement building him up towards a massive climax, he managed that one job.

He came, gibbering out something that tried to be both loving towards Angie, and an expression of his own orgasm. It got mangled along the way into gibberish. Even so, his voice slid across Angie’s skin just like the water, peaking in a squeak.

His legs turned to jelly. He had to blink white spots from his vision, which blurred entirely. He twitched uncontrollably, spasming with tension and pleasure both peaking in his body. Before he could relax, relieved of various burdens, into a puddle of girly ooze in Angie’s arms. And between her thighs. Speaking of, uh, ooze, he felt it going out throughout. Pumping out in spurts and reliving some of that pent-up pressure.

When he did manage to come to and blink away the blurriness from his vision, he saw the far wall of the shower.

As well as the proof of what had just happened was splattered there in a lewd, sordid display. Like paint, or just more shampoo, but Chihiro knew he was the source of it. It felt dirty, but not wrong. Base and animalistic, sure, but that was sex.

Even though it hadn’t involved penetration like he believed ‘true sex’ to be, there was no other word to describe Chihiro’s experience. Transcendent, perhaps. Amazing. Okay, there were lots of words rumbling around in his overworked mind. The first coherent thought that came to Chihiro, as he relied entirely on Angie to stand up, leaning against her, drained of strength and his lusts, was to wonder how Angie would look, similarly covered.

Like the soapy water, or would it have a different appearance?

He was getting way ahead of himself, with that one. It was just a passing thought from a silly boy. Chihiro couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, much less cum again.

Breathing steadily was a good first step, as he slowly came down in steps from the hypersensitive, altered state of mind from what was called ‘the little death’. The fluorescent lights overhead were brighter and more intense, as was the setting sunlight from more high windows. The sound of water beating against the shower, or skin, was like a hailstorm. Angie’s own breathing and heartbeat were drums.

“Good boy,” Angie cooed into his ear, reaching up to pet his soaked hair. “Good boy, Chihiro. After so long of having to live a lie, you finally get to be honest. Atua is in everything, and he does not judge us for these things. Not like society, or other gods, or culture, or any of that. He doesn’t ‘forgive us’ because there’s nothing that needs forgiveness in basic, normal human desires. Well, that’s just what Angie thinks. I hope you’ll keep being honest with Angie. Even if we have to do it privately for now.”

“F-For now?”

“You want to change, right? You want to become stronger?”

“Yeah. No matter what. Um, one day… I want to tell everyone, on my terms.”

Angie nodded. “Thought so. In that case! We’ll work you towards that, together.”

“Um, w-with sex?”

“Angie has many tools in her toolbox. But yes. S-e-x. And lots of it. These past two weeks, well. Angie hasn’t denied herself for nearly as long as Chihiro has, but it’s still been miserable having to hold myself back in various ways.” This little taste, really just foreplay to greater things, was an overwhelming experience. Chihiro could only imagine what laid ahead for them in the future. “Remember above all else that this was your choice. And you chose well~ If you ever get backed up or needy again. At any hour, in any place, just let Angie know, and we’ll solve it together. Just like we’ll work out these feelings you have, until one day, you won’t have anything to hide.”

That sounded marvelous. “Yeah.”

“Ehe. Gonna have to carry you back to the lockers~ Luckily, Angie is stronger than she looks!” Sure enough, Angie hefted Chihiro into a princess carry. It should have been the guy carrying his lover off, right? T-This way wasn’t so bad either, though. “So divine. I thought that Shuichi might be the one, you know. However, with the discovery I made yesterday, and now this? Angie thinks you might be her Darling instead.”

“Um, well, I…”

“Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to find out if you’re the one. This was enough for today.”

Chihiro’s life was never the same after that moment. It wasn’t just a moment of immense relief, or sexual gratification. Although it was certainly both of those things. It combined with a hundred other feelings in his mind, and he couldn’t deny, he was already changing.

One day, he’d be honest with the rest of his classmates. That probably wouldn’t involve such, uh, drastic things as this, but if he could just be himself, well.

Chihiro always thought he’d need a miracle to do that.

There she was.

She forgave and accepted him, in ways nobody else ever had.

Even then, he knew he’d have to pay Angie back. For all her talk of being selfish and impatient, she’d never once mentioned how aroused she was, or her own needs. That would have to change. As soon as his legs worked, and he knew what he was doing. Could be a while!

_I’m still weak, but that won’t always be true. Screw it. Can’t hurt to try._

_Atua, if you’re there? I won’t ask you to make me strong or brave or anything. Instead, I’ll just tell you to watch me go._

_I’ll become the kind of person Angie, and all my friends, can be proud of._


	9. 1-8d. Distrust (Kazuichi)

Kazuichi Souda, the Ultimate Mechanic, wasn't holding up too well.

It was fine to admit that, right? Or cry himself to sleep? Even though he was a guy, he had emotional needs, damnit!

Miss Sonia's seventeenth rejection might go in the memory hole with the previous sixteen pretty easy. It was like a tradition by now. There were, however, other, more pressing issues.

He had nothing to fix, and nothing to fix it it with!

The only complex machines on this island were the Exisals. They were too hardcore to mess with. Usami and Kiibo both ran away too fast.

Was it the menacing grin with razor-sharp shark teeth? The glare from his punk-makeup-wearing face and shock-purple hair? Between that, and his bright yellow jumpsuits that he wore for both work and casual use, he was one of the easiest people on the whole island to see coming. Only beneath those three lumbering ogres.

The worst part was that Kazuichi lacked tools. Aside from the full standard belt he had on him when he was taken to Gopher Island. A screwdriver could do amazing things, but there were limits.

What the hell was the point of the Ultimate Mechanic if there was nothing to fix, or tinker with, or invent?!

He'd take his chances back in civilization, Hunt and all, if it meant he had something to do!

Miu Iruma, the Ultimate Inventor, didn't have her Lab yet either. But if she did, she'd be making his dumb inventions look like child's play. Miu wasn't just a smoking hot blonde, she was, as she kept shouting, a bona fide technical genius. She could probably fix non-vehicle stuff just as well, if not better, than he could.

Kazuichi was really specialized. While he was confident he won't lose if it had an engine, otherwise, he was just pointless.

People talked a good game about him being one of the island's three 'technical wizards', but Kazuichi knew it was just a matter of time before they got tired of him. The moment somebody stopped being useful, that meant the average person would toss them aside like so much garbage. That was just how people worked.

If the damn traitors didn't stick a knife in his ribs before that happened!

"Let me out of here... just let me go home..."

No, despite having Miss Sonia and some, like, other girls, too, Gopher Island was no Eden. It wasn't even a suitable replacement for Japan. Probably the first time in years that he actually wished he was home with that old bastard instead of wherever he'd ended up.

Not to mention it was already clear, even if Kazuichi would never accept it in his heart, that Miss Sonia had no interest in a schlub like him at all. No, not when that lunatic Gundham was around.

"Damnit! At least gimme a bike. At least if I can fix a bike, then I'll have some value to the crew..."

"My, my."

Before Kazuichi knew where he was going, he'd wandered up to the gates of the casino on Third Island. It was Ultimate Lab of the woman standing before him, dolled up like an actual Gothic-Lolita doll. Complete with red eyes, extremely white-as-a-sheet ghostly pale skin, and massive black drills. From her appearance alone, everyone knew not to mess with Celestia Ludenberg, the Ultimate Gambler. Kazuichi wasn't one to critique anyone else's style choices, if the world was fair.

But it wasn't, and this lady was scary as hell.

He felt like a kid who'd wandered into the forest and run across a beautiful, deceptive demon.

"You are looking exceptionally pitiful, Kazuichi."

"Nice to see you too, Miss Celestia," He grumbled at her, grinding razor-sharp shark teeth together in annoyance. Of all the places to wind up, well. Maybe guys down on their luck and a casino did make a pretty natural pairing. Unfortunate that after he tried to take apart that slot machine, he'd been escorted out. "Hope your day's better than mine."

"As a matter of fact, I'm doing great business today.” Her beaming smile was just as dangerous as a mask of rage and hatred. In fact, with Miss Celeste, it could go from one, to the other! In the blink of an eye! That’s what Kazuichi heard from the grapevine, anyhow. It lined up with what he knew about most women. “Even if there's no point to turning a profit on this island, it is still deeply satisfying to put my talent to use. Perhaps that is why you are not doing so well, non?"

She had a good read on people. Being treated like an open book was aggravating. It was why he didn't like spending time around that detective boy, either.

"What's it to you?"

"Exactly nothing." She clasped her gloved hands together and looked aside, a demure and surprisingly feminine gesture. "I just don't like pitiful sights and pitiful men. So long as you agree to leave that troublesome toolbelt at the front desk with one of my slaves, I could let you back in. A clean slate, and we may forget all about that alleged tampering business. Come, and forget your worries."

On a normal day, Kazuichi had the sense to decline.

Today, though, he was already feeling so low. The only way he could possibly go was up. "Sure. Uh, thanks."

"Please think nothing of it.” Miss Celeste steepled her fingers amiably. “I wish to maintain cordial relations with everybody on this island. For the sake of living comfortably, and for the sake of my business."

_Not because you care, huh? How surprisingly honest._

Other people might have found Miss Celeste's attitude off-putting. Kazuichi just thought it was refreshing. No friendship speeches. None of that ‘hope’ stuff. She wasn't different from people like Makoto. Not down here it counted.

The Ultimate Gambler just didn’t pretend otherwise!

She led him past the lavish entry hall, manned by the ever-diligent, ever-annoyed Ishimaru. A guy with a permanent stick up his ass. The supposed Ultimate Moral Compass took every ‘job’ he had stupidly serious. Even being an ‘employee’ for Miss Celeste went way too far. Like, wearing a tuxedo, along with his creepy natural red eyes, look like a vampire butler.

Kazuichi couldn’t begrudge her from seeking out her dreams. If he could live in luxury, fix complicated engines, and be waited on and adored by a harem of blondes, he’d take that chance in one heartbeat!

_If you say you wouldn’t do the same with your own perverse and selfish dreams, then you’re a liar!_

They went right on through the main casino halls. Which were full of glittering, glowing machines. Gambling by itself wasn't Kazuichi's deal. Too much risk, and he was a risk-averse kinda guy. Not a coward! Risk-averse. The machinery, though, made the place look like a candy store to his long-suffering eyes.

He'd just feel like a jerk if he went back on his word and tried to break these babies open, though.

At least today.

As Celeste said, many of the students were here, winning and losing great fortunes of frigging Monopoly money. At least with the removal of the real risks of gambling, like going into crippling debt, the fun aspects looked a little more appealing.

Growing up, Kazuichi and his family never had enough to provide for themselves properly, much less risk it at some damn casino. Then again, they said the lottery was a tax on ignorance, right? Poor people probably found casinos more enticing than the rich, which was part of what turned Kazuichi's stomach about this place.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"The VIP Lounge, of course. I saw you through the window and just couldn’t take the pitiful sight.” Alright, he got it, he was an eyesore when he was freaking out. Not the first person to tell him that, Miss Celeste. “I must return to my game. And I would like to invite you to join me."

Hey now. Hitting the lever on some Metal Gear Solid pachinko machine was one thing. Going head-to-head with Celestia Ludenberg was another!

"Oho. Don't be concerned. It won't be a luck-based game. But rather, a game to get to know each other better."

Yeah, totally a trap.

Kazuichi was lonely, okay?!

They took an elevator whose ride was so smooth, he thought it was broken. Until they finally arrived at a dimly-lit lounge. Oil lamps on the walls provided an intimate, warm glow, but still clearly illuminated a single table at the back. Along with streaming beams of daylight from a stained-glass window. The gothic architecture and modern sights of a casino were an odd blend, but hey. That one and only table had a guy who Kazuichi knew only too well, and always tried to avoid.

Class 53’s resident pest, Kokichi Ouma. The self-proclaimed Ultimate Supreme Leader. The only thing he was really ‘supreme’ at was just being an asshole and passing it off as comedy. He wore a white coat or jacket thing that honestly looked like a straightjacket. It just wasn't done up around his thin, unmanly body, unfortunately. Miss Celeste returned to her empty chair across from the purple-haired liar. She snapped, and the fat guy who followed her around pulled out a chair for Kazuichi, too, halfway between the two.

Somehow, the guy with _razor-sharp teeth_ was the one who felt like he’d been thrown to the sharks.

"Hey there," Kazuichi greeted Kokichi, with zero enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey!" Kokichi tapped his chin. "K...eitaro? Kenji? Kelly?"

"It's Kazuichi!" The overstressed mechanic snapped. "It's been over a week and you still can't remember my goddamn name?!"

"He can remember," Celes explained in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning wide. "He is merely lying, to aggravate you." She turned towards Kokichi. “I presume that he will be acceptable?”

“For this, and only this thing in life, sure.”

“Okay, so what is this ‘game’ anyway?” Kazuichi demanded nervously.

“It is very simple, do not worry.” Miss Celeste carried on, in her thick, unnatural accent. “We are playing **Two Truths and a Lie**. In this variant, both players must present their set of three statements to the referee, you. You must find the lie. If you cannot, then the liar is awarded one point. We are playing to three points.” She motioned her gloved hand, sweeping it across the table absolutely loaded with casino chips. “And all you see here is the wager. Along with certain other arrangements. Matters of pride.”

So all Kazuichi had to do was tell when two inveterate liars were lying.

“Uh, I don’t know about this. I mean, well. You guys have stakes. But what do I get out of all this?”

“You get to walk out of this room alive,” Kokichi said innocently, tapping his chin.

“N-Nice try, midget, but I could beat you up if you tried anything!”

“Hmm.” Miss Celeste thought it over, and then offered, “If you do this for us, then you can work here until your Ultimate Lab is opened.”

“Uh, how is that much of a prize?”

“Well, guests are not permitted to take apart the machinery. If you were a member of the casino staff, however, that would be another matter entirely.” Miss Celeste smiled upon him. “If the Ultimate Mechanic finally had a role to fill, a purpose, and I was assured that my machines remain in tip-top shape, then it would seem that everybody wins. Hm?”

Hard to pass that up. Kazuichi was starving. “With one condition. I get to keep wearing my normal clothes. I’m not a butler, I’d just be, like, your mechanic.”

“That is acceptable, I suppose. You are certainly not an attractive man, so it would not be a loss.”

_I respond better to praise, you know!_

Kazuichi fought back little bitch tears.

“F-Fine then,” He said, trying to compose himself and partially succeeding. “Hit me. And I didn’t mean that literally, you little jerkass over there! I can hit a lot harder- Ahem. Who’s first?”

Miss Celeste produced a hundred-yen coin, and flipped it. That was about all it was good for on this island.

“Kokichi, please proceed.”

“Kaaay.” Kokichi knocked his standard dictator-issue fascist jackboots up onto the table. Regardless of Miss Celeste’s visible annoyance. “So, Kaz, this is my first turn. That’s the number that comes after zero, but before two. Ahem. **1\. Sonia Nevermind is not a virgin. 2. Sonia Nevermind is not single. 3. Sonia Nevermind never fails to masturbate each night.** ”

“Y-You bastard! Don’t mess with me! You’re supposed to have two truths, not just three whole-ass lies!”

 _“Tsk, tsk.”_ Kokichi wagged a finger at him. “The best liars don’t just say things that are false, silly. That’s super obvious. Real liars mix truth with lies. Hence why this game is an excellent training ground for liars.”

Miss Celeste tittered in delight. “Why, thank you. Kazuichi, please proceed. Which one of the three is the false statement, I wonder?”

“B-But… It can’t be...”

_No. Breathe, Kazuichi._

_Maybe your stake in this game is already decided, but you can’t let this rugrat walk all over you! It doesn’t mean what he’s saying is really true. Just for the purposes of this game, you’ve got to figure out what seems the most likely._

_You’ve just gotta think!_

He evened out his breathing and stilled his pounding heart. He ignored his boiling blood, and the urge to reach over the table.

“Then, the lie is… Number one! M-Miss Sonia has to be pure! She just has to be!”

Kokichi was taken aback. “God, that was easy.”

“... Huh?”

 _“Bzzzt,”_ Kokichi made a buzzer sound, while smirking even wider. “Sorry. I didn’t expect your purity fetishism would extend that far. It’s almost like cheating to exploit somebody’s psychological weaknesses. That’s why it’s so fun! Sorry, but the lie was number two. That’s one point for the Ultimate Supreme Leader~”

No. Fucking. Way.

“I mean, come on. Do you recall hearing Sonia announce a royal engagement? Or just say she’s dating somebody? Do you think somebody like her could ever shut the hell up about such a thing?”

The twerp’s reasoning did make some small degree of sense. Despite what a fucking asshole he was.

Although, was it really a ‘fetish’ to think that a pure girl was just way better?! That was the way the world worked, wasn’t it?

Right?

Maybe.

“Hehe. While it’s devastating to think that Miss Sonia does, uh, that sort of thing, that might even be attractive in a girl. Especially if she’s a real, true blue princess! Think of the gap moe, man! Plus, it means she’s still single, which means there’s absolutely no reason why I haven’t got a shot!”

“Impressive,” Miss Celeste remarked, talking into the white silky knuckle of her glove as she contemplated. “You bounce back, Kazuichi.”

“Thanks! Oh, also, by the way. Kokichi, buddy.” Kazuichi went from grin to glower in a split-second. “Where the fuck did you learn these super interesting factoids about our Ultimate Princess?” He glared into the liar’s twinkling eyes. “Fair warning. Depending on your answer, your alarm clock may be turned into a bomb.”

“Believe it or not, she talks to people a lot. In fact, she’s super free in admitting all kinds of personal things, at weird times. For a princess, she sure lacks that sense of royal discretion, right?”

He was undaunted, even when Kazuichi tried to intimidate him.

Miss Celeste didn’t care about this aside, and pushed on with the game. “In any case, my first turn. **1\. Makoto Naegi hates somebody on this island. 2. Kiyotaka Ishimaru is the grandson of a Prime Minister. 3. Hiyoko Saionji caused a big fight with Himiko Yumeno by insisting magic isn’t real.** ”

Kazuichi stared. “Hmm. Makoto is like the nicest guy, which is why he always finishes last. Just like me! So there’s no way he’s a hateful guy. I don’t gotta think about it more than that, because it’s obvious! Number one has gotta be the lie! … Right?

“Oh my. Oh my, oh my.” Miss Celeste shook her head. “Is this really all you’re capable of, Kazuichi?”

“What? Oh, come on. Don’t tell me…”

“One point for me, as well. The lie was number three. This is a test that relied upon your understanding of the people you’ve been forced to live with. It seems that in your quest to pursue ‘Miss Sonia’ to the ends of this mysterious island, you have become blind to the others. Try talking to people once in a while, and you may benefit.”

Another kick in the teeth. This time from a reclusive goth gambler girl.

Not that Kazuichi expected to pick this game up immediately, or dominate a pair of accomplished liars But come on! He didn’t even get a lucky guess on the first round? Was this day just that shit?

“So, the score’s one to one~” Kokichi said. “Since we’re going two out of three, then this next round will totally clinch it.”

“Hang on,” Kazuichi interrupted. “Aren’t we going to three points?”

“Well, at least somebody’s home.” Kokichi sighed.

“Hmm, but I like your proposal better,” Miss Celeste said. “It is more spicy. Very well! Best two out of three it is.”

Great. Whatever, not like it mattered.

Maybe it would get Kazuichi the hell out of here faster.

“Alrighty!” Kokichi cleared his throat. “Round two, fight! **1\. Somebody has given Hajime Hinata their underwear as a gift. 2. I once saved your sorry excuse for a life. 3. Tenko Chabashira actually practices a fictional martial art she made up.** ”

_Tch. What the hell’s number two about? He saved my life? As if. This one’s mine…_

_Wait._

_Given how arrogant and self-centered this guy is, it’s possible he views that as the truth. I don’t know all the stuff he’s been up to, which means I can’t say for sure if two is right, or wrong. I know one is true, Hajime himself told me about it. At least accept Ibuki’s friendship offering without looking freaked out, you nerd… Okay. One is true, two is uncertain… and three sounds false._

_I’ve seen Tenko do martial arts movie stuff._

_Yet I can’t say that for certain, either. I have to stop assuming things, and work only off what I can actually prove. Which still leaves me with two possible answers, damnit._

_As if I’d even be able to hang out with that prickly lesbian!_

With no other recourse, Kazuichi pulled the only move that might grant him victory over the checkered-scarf wearing purple-haired gremlin.

He took an educated guess.

“As if you’d ever help me out like that! Two is the lie.”

He waited through a moment of tension, not realizing he was holding his breath and getting really invested in this silly contest.

Kokichi looked away, deflated. “Yeah. Maybe that one was a bit obvious. I was really just hoping to throw you off with Tenko’s talent, ha. Get it? Because she throws people. No point for me.”

“Yes!” Kazuichi actually leapt out of his chair, giving a cheer. He didn’t technically earn a point, since he was just the arbitrator or test subject. It felt like he’d scored a point, though. “Heh. You got too cocky, but I could see right through you!”

Maybe there was something to this game after all.

“Excellent work,” Miss Celestia nodded in approval. “But can you do the same for my second turn? Do listen well. **1\. Gonta Gokuhara is the tallest person on the island. 2. Kaito Momota and Yasuhiro Hagakure both list ‘the occult’ as their dislike. 3. Class 1 has an unequal ratio of boys and girls.** ”

“Oh, handbook trivia time.” Kazuchi grinned, rows of razor-sharp teeth shining through in the dim lighting of the smoky lounge. “Mind if I check my Hope Pad for a sec?”

“By all means,” Miss Celeste nodded graciously.

“... Seriously? You’ll let me just look it up.”

“If you think it will help you, then take any measure short of leaving this room. I wouldn’t want to constrain your efforts.”

“But I do,” Kokichi added helpfully. “Hurry it up!”

By then, Kazuichi realized why the Ultimate Gambler was being so accommodating. Because letting him check the student profiles wasn’t any gamble at all! A person’s handbook only carried detailed information and profiles for their own class. Celeste had deliberately posed all three of her statements with that in mind. It was hopeless to even try.

Regardless, purely to spite Kokichi, he did it.

Nothing.

“So, are you prepared to choose?” She asked, patient and calm like a predatory animal staking out their prey. If Kazuichi botched this, Miss Celeste would pick up the win, right then and there.

Thus, defeating and humiliating Kokichi.

_Huh._

_Time to literally pick at random, you little shitlord-_

“Number two’s been good to me, so I’ll go with it again! Number two is the lie.”

Surely, that would be enough to-

“Ah, you must be familiar with dear Hiro. While he cannot shut his mouth about the occult and how ‘bullcrap’ it is, to a quite intolerable degree, it is not listed in his official profile. Instead, he chose to list ‘crushing debts’ as his Dislike. As if that is not universally true, non?”

“So, we’re still one-to-one,” Kokichi winced. “Sheesh. What happened? How did this happen, we’re smarter than this.”

Kazuichi had been actively trying to throw that last one, that’s what!

“Apparently not,” Miss Celeste admitted.

“Heh.” The Ultimate Mechanic shook his head in reproach. “What happened is, you two both badly underestimated me. Sure, I don’t have a bunch of things you’ve got. But I’ve got something way better than that.”

“Do tell, champ,” Kokichi sighed.

“I just don’t freakin’ give up! I stick it through, thick and thin. Until my luck turns around! After all, if I try something nine times, and fail, but then succeed on the tenth attempt? Then do the previous failures matter even a bit? No! Victory bathes everything in a wonderful hue, so as long as you get there in the end. You can ignore all the pain you had go through to get there.”

“I would ask if you approached women the same way,” Miss Celeste said, “But I scarcely need to.”

“Nope! And now that my luck is clearly turning around, I’m gonna go and ask Miss Sonia out again after we’re done here!”

“Not giving up is one thing,” She shook her head. “However, in honor of you bringing me up short, a rare thing for a… common male to do, some friendly advice from an actual woman.” What did her being a woman have to do with romancing women?! “Space things out. Or, try more… granularity in your approach”

“Huh? Grain?”

Kokichi explained, “Try asking her out to, like, the Festival on Friday. Rather than to get married or something instantly, like a fucking moron. I mean, I’m not saying that’ll work any better, but you never know. Maybe she’ll pity you enough to go for it. At the very least, she might give you a shot, and you can try and show her a better side to your personality. If such a thing exists.”

Kazuichi nodded gratefully, surprised by what seemed like honest advice from profoundly dishonest sources. “You guys are probably right. Hey, thanks!”

“You didn’t even notice that I was insulting you again… Love is scary, Celeste.”

“Indeed it is. That is why it is something in life for which I simply have no need. My dream wouldn’t include such things. In any case, let us proceed. The game is not over yet.”

The two of them wagered countless things on countless games, so far.

Miss Celeste had won overwhelmingly at first. Kokichi was starting to pick up the occasional treasured victory, here and there, as these tropical days wore on and on.

This was just their latest competition, with Kazuichi now stuck firmly in the middle.

In the end, even though he was just a tool for their competitive streak, he did get something out of the game. He wasn’t kidding around about all that stuff. He really felt invigorated. Like he’d been reborn. Going through a crucible and coming out the other end rededicated to what mattered in life.

It was better than moping around all day!

Things weren’t perfect for the Ultimates, or him in general, but such was life. Life was dirty, and grimy, and greasy, and rough.

Even if shit was fucked, Kazuichi could muddle through and survive, like he always did.

Especially if he kept to his own personal motto. One only reinforced by his time today at the casino.

_Be friendly, be helpful. Trust fucking nobody. There’s nothing in this world that you can believe in._


	10. 1-11a. A Tool With A Heart (Peko)

Most of the island was preparing for the Ultimate Festival.

Peko Pekoyama, the Ultimate Swordswoman, instead prepared for battle.

She took an ice-cold shower for ten whole minutes.

A decadent expenditure of precious time.

In anyone else, it would be a sign their mind was wandering. Yet there existed not one shred of doubt within Peko Pekoyama.

There couldn’t have been, for it wasn’t in her nature to question. Only to act.

For which she was built from the ground up. Like a custom-designed masterwork tool.

She toweled off for one minute, wrapping it around her powerfully muscled figure. Even with today’s fitness craze, most women didn’t look anything like Peko. Then again, most women, most people, didn’t understand their purpose in life.

Peko understood perfectly.

So for her, rock-hard abs, thick, powerful legs, and broad shoulders were all perfectly suited to that purpose. There wasn’t any more room for doubt in her, or softness and weakness, then there was in her sword.

With a few notable and annoying exceptions that she’d failed to burn off, despite rigorous, hellish lifelong training. Parts of her that would make the next stage bothersome.

Instead of donning her usual uniform-style skirt and shirt, she brought out something new from the closet. A gift from the meddlesome Fashion Alliance, but one that could prove vital to today’s battle.

A jet-black yukata, whose material gleamed off the morning light at certain angles.

“While we’re on this island, our professional relationship doesn’t exist.”

Ever since then, she was left to her own devices. Her only goal was to maintain this tactical advantage, the ignorance of the others. Just in case it ever became useful.

People were starting to talk, though.

That’s why Peko nearly stayed in. Yet, her childhood crush had taken an unusual step, and acted on his own initiative.

He invited her to the Festival.

That was the sort of offer a normal, everyday college student could answer enthusiastically, right?

So it was fine.

She pulled on the yukata, wrapping the unusually soft, silky material around her body. The feeling was strange, and like many parts of her new island life, sinfully luxurious compared to her old life. She pulled it taught forcefully around her waist, with the ribbon. When she looked down, it was now impossible to ignore the places where she wasn’t hewn with muscle and definition, but instead… soft.

Womanly.

Would _he_ appreciate that?

Was it something _he_ liked in girls?

Would _he_ ever look at her in such a manner?

Such were questions any normal girl would ask. So, it was fine for her.

Peko had just finished doing up her hair as usual, with braiding, when there was a knock at the door.

She was decent, and Peko only locked her door when she wasn’t there. When she was present in her cabin, there was no need for such a thing. She called out that it was open.

Hajime and Mahiru had come to fetch her for breakfast, but were now struck dumb for some reason.

“Good morning,” Peko said, hoping to prompt some life from either of them.

“Uh, morning!” Hajime managed. His cheeks were red. “So, I guess you really are going.”

“H-Hey, Peko.” Mahiru and Peko had developed what normal people would call a friendship. In fact, all three of them could be said to be somewhat close. After all, they together formed most of the common sense of their entire class, and were, alongside Byakuya, often little more than babysitters for the others’ wild antics.

“What’s wrong?” Peko asked.

“Is it okay if I snap a picture? For posterity’s sake. For the world.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” The freckled redhead was the Ultimate Photographer, after all. Even if her sudden zeal was inexplicable, Peko didn’t need to understand. “If you must. Afterwards, let’s get something to eat.”

“It’ll only take a sec, I promise.”

_Click._

“Alright! Check it out.” Mahiru’s digital camera didn’t need any time to develop, so Hajime could lean over, and he nodded in approval.

“Not bad. I mean, wow.”

“I know, right?!”

A normal person would be steadily more curious about this strange behavior. Peko didn’t have one bit of curiosity within her. It was Mahiru who offered to show her the result. An offer that, acting as a friend, Peko could hardly decline.

_Is that really what I look like?_

A digital camera captured the world exactly how it was. A moment was frozen in time. It depended on the skill of the user and the quality of the technology. Both were assured here.

The same woman who had ended so many lives was now a blushing maiden.

By the time they got over to the restaurant at the far side of Hotel 2, Peko had it under control.

Hajime always liked to check out the lobby on the lower floor, and it was easy to see why.

Slumped over, and dozing in front of an idling game console and flickering flatscreen TV, was the Ultimate Gamer, Chiaki Nanami. Also wearing a yukata for the Festival, a light purple that perfectly matched the shade of her hair.

Peko couldn’t help but quietly look at her figure. It was put on such prominent display, like that was the purpose. Peko’s ruby-red eyes slid back down to herself. There were similarities to be found, no doubt. If Hajime approved of Chiaki looking like that…

And he very clearly did…

Maybe then, he would approve of this kind of stuff, too.

Chiaki explained, once shaken awake by a concerned Mahiru, that she’d put on the yukata last night. “If I’d had to change this morning, it would have been a serious inconvenience.”

Even Peko, unfamiliar with such clothing, managed inside of five minutes.

Oh well.

Questioning why Chiaki did, or didn’t, do something was futile.

For all the many character defects of Teruteru Hanamura, the Ultimate Cook, he could cook. While he happily prepared other meals for the entire crew, breakfast was a time for the classes to gather separately. This meant that, occasionally, Teruteru made breakfast for Class 2 alone, as he did today.

Almost everybody was in attendance. Save for Fuyuhiko, who had decided not to show up again.

Bothersome.

“Should I fetch him?”

Mahiru shook her head. “If he wants to skulk around and miss a six-star breakfast, he’s not hurting anybody but himself. Let him come out when he gets hungry.”

“I saw him taking food back to his cabin earlier,” Nagito said. “I’d call such habits paranoid, if I was in any position to criticize an Ultimate.”

This only prolonged the wait, which would be agonizing for a normal girl.

After breakfast, the entire crew was to gather for the Ultimate Election, and that meant Fuyuhiko’s attendance was mandatory.

So it was okay to go and get him, as there was legitimate purpose to it.

Peko was the only one who could go near the Ultimate Yakuza without worrying about getting stabbed, anyhow.

Peko made it clear she was alone, which made Fuyuhiko quickly opened the door.

They were face to face.

Time stood still.

Peko took a deep breath. “Good morning… Fuyuhiko.”

It was tough to break old habits. In fact, calling him that felt horrible, because being on a first name basis with somebody implied that you were on roughly the same level as them. It felt intolerably impertinent. But if it was for the sake of protecting what mattered most, she could sacrifice even her own dignity.

“Uh. Hey. The hell is that?”

Not off to a great start.

“The others thought that if I was going to attend the Festival, I should look the part,” Peko explained calmly, despite how she felt inside. A normal girl would feel the heavy beating of her own heart just about now. A normal girl would be nervous. “It’s no good?”

“Fuck no, that's not it,” He replied. There was none of the venom he would toss at everyone else around him, so childishly. When he swore in front of Peko, it was clearly just from lifelong habit. “It’s damn good. Whatever. C’mon.”

They walked together, out of the hotel and towards Central Island.

“Who you gonna vote for?” Fuyuhiko wondered. His tone made it clear that he thought this whole process was the biggest joke. He wasn’t alone in that, but Peko wasn’t in the habit of taking any decision lightly.

“I feel that should be obvious for anyone with a brain.”

“Yeah, guess so. If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s bastards who have to make everything into a speech.”

After Usami made a big speech in front of the assembled class, they descended into the atmospheric, torch-lit election chamber. Peko took note of its dimensions and construction more than the artistic flourishes. She particularly noted the fact that there was only one entrance, and one exit. Through that big stairwell.

That didn’t become relevant, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She watched the debates without much interest. Her mind was already made up. That was a little open secret of most modern ‘debates’; almost everybody knew who was ‘right’ before the first word was spoken. In accordance with that, she put her token onto Byakuya for her own Class 2 election, and the bothersome, if well-meaning, Kaito to become Captain.

Kaito’s victory was inevitable, but he celebrated like he’d just set foot on the moon.

Gundham Tanaka’s victory, on the other hand, was a surprise.

He was an extremely illogical person.

At least the position was likely to be more ceremonial than important, since the Captain would be directing Security matters.

Peko volunteered to be part of the newly-formed Security force under Mukuro Ikusaba’s leadership. It would afford Peko a number of particular advantages. Compared to the requirements of her old life, the duties of a glorified member of the neighborhood watch were still like a vacation.

Everyone who wasn't Peko was happy when the spectacle of the elections was over, and the Festival could begin.

It was a time for new beginnings for the Ultimates. The start of their new age.

Peko tried to find Fuyuhiko in the crowd, but saw him leaving on his own. With haste.

Why?

What was going on?

Why did he suddenly want to split up?

Had she said or done something wrong? That seemed the most likely possibility, although Peko couldn’t figure out what. What exactly had Peko done wrong?

In what area was she deficient?

A tool that didn’t work properly, or that caused its owner displeasure, was worthless.

No, it was unforgivable.

So that she would have time to consider what went wrong, and maybe correct it, she didn’t immediately follow Fuyuhiko.

Instead, she drifted between events and performances half-aware, her mind far too busy. Normally, she had no time to look back, and no patience for navel-gazing. However, a normal person did those things, so it was okay for her.

Barely after contact with the ‘enemy’, and the battle did not fare well.

There was some kind of incident with an Insect Meet and Greet in the meantime. Even though Peko had attended in hopes of growing closer to animals, it was…

Not any fun.

Yet, it was also not particularly exciting or worthy of note. The bugs crawling all over everyone and swarming around were all, as far as she could determine, harmless. The panic and histrionics from the others were unnecessary. Especially once she put an end to the situation, and nearly put an end to Kokichi once and for all.

He was remarkably elusive, though.

She was still hunting for him along the decoration-strewn, littered island paths, wooden sword at the ready, when she encountered an enormous aura of sheer power.

Even to approach was to be bathed in the spirit of a true warrior.

Sakura Oogami appeared down the path, with her closest friend, Asahina. Holding hands, although they quickly stopped when they took note of her.

So it really was like that.

What a pair they made. While Peko was strong, she tried to maintain a lithe grace that would let her move lightning-fast. Sakura went in the other direction, and piled on so much strength that she stood supreme. Her claim to the title of strongest woman was secure, and Sakura's goal of being the strongest human being, period, would sound fanciful coming from anybody but her.

Hina was by far the most ‘girly’ looking of the three star athletes. Even she sported a lower body built like industrial machinery. She was the only one among them fortunate enough to have their Ultimate Lab, and she made good use with astounding displays of sheer swimming power.

In her element, she was every bit as formidable as Sakura or Peko were in a fight.

Peko had actually graduated from the same high school as the Ultimate Martial Artist. Shiranui High. It wasn’t a district known for amazing athletics, but they both rose as shining stars there, before being scooped up in the maw of Hope’s Peak.

They weren’t close, but the familiarity that came with knowing somebody from before brought them together to some degree. As well as their mutual respect as champion fighters.

They exchanged nods that said everything without the need for words.

Aoi Asahina, on the other hand, bounded forward and got into what normal people would consider their personal space. She needed words, but often managed to say nothing.

“Whoa, looking cool, Peko! This thing fits you amazingly well.”

Or she said silly things. Did everyone think to win her over with flattery?

“Thank you, Hina. I see neither of you have dressed up, though.” Both ladies wore their normal outfits. Sporty and athletic red jacket, straining white shirt, and denim shorts for Asahina, and a modified school uniform set for Sakura.

Other people had expressed before that tough girls wearing the sailor-suit type outfit was a mismatch.

Peko wasn’t much for fashion, so she couldn’t say either way.

“I’m nooot really the, uh, mega feminine type,” Hina admitted. “Neither is Sakura. Although, she tried. Tsumugi just didn’t have anything approaching her size. Not even for guys.”

Understandable.

“It’s better for all involved that I don’t try to act my gender, anyway,” Sakura sighed. “Everyone is more comfortable with me as I am now. Hina, you could have asked for something from the Alliance, though.”

“Forget that,” Hina said. “Yukata are dumb, anyhow!” What an interesting bit of solidarity. “Sooo, Pekopeko. How’s the Festival treating you?~” She turned on a dime, leaning forward, hands on her hips, talking conspiratorially. “Are the two of you having fun?”

Peko fixed her with a menacing glare. “Who exactly are you referring to?”

“You and Fuyuhiko, duh!”

Of course.

Maybe this subject could be deflected with some trite reply. “Things are going well, if you must know.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he, then?~”

“We’re not joined at the hip,” Peko explained patiently. “Believe it or not, despite the gossip that you’ve had a large hand in spreading, we’re not star-crossed lovers. We merely find that, unlike certain others, we don’t… annoy each other.”

“Mhm, mhm,” The Ultimate Swimming Pro nodded sympathetically, blue eyes clouded in concern. “That bad, huh? Sorry to hear that, Pekopeko.”

Peko tried to glare again, even though it was clearly having no effect. With Sakura present, that confidence was justified.

“Time to see if we can fix things up before the end of the night. By, well, helping you out with your boy trouble!”

“That is not necessary,” Peko objected. “Nothing has ever been less necessary than that, Asahina.”

Hina rolled her eyes. “Then what’s your plan? Give him some space? Just hope that he’ll man up and come to you? What if he doesn’t? What if he thinks you don’t like him? Even though you’re like, madly in love?”

“I don’t recall ever admitting to any such thing,” Peko pointed out, but it was fruitless.

“Are you cool with how things are going? Like, would you be fine if you just spent all day not hanging out with him?”

Peko didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.

How bothersome.

“I am not in the habit of interfering with others’ personal lives,” Sakura intoned, her voice grave and gravelly as ever. She sounded like she’d spent a lifetime smoking. Although she would have never reached such physical excellence if that was true. “So forgive my imposition, old friend. However, Hina isn’t wrong. Go to him, and make your intentions plain. We are not the sort of people to skulk around being subtle or keeping secrets.”

_If only you knew the half of it._

“It is better to stand, and face your enemy.”

Hm. Peko’s enemy in this battle. It wasn’t Fuyuhiko, obviously. No matter what happened, that would never be true. Even if she had to fight the whole world instead.

Her foe was insidious. It had to be her own fears. She wasn’t supposed to have those.

Her imitation of a normal college girl was clearly having unforeseen side effects.

“I’ll consider your advice,” Peko assured them, before she took her leave. “Thank you, I suppose.”

Sure enough, Fuyuhiko withdrew to the roadside diner on Second Island, just off the bridge.

He didn’t look happy to see her, which all but proved she was still doing something wrong.

Peko had thought about it for hours by that point, burning the morning away in rare contemplation, to no effect. It wasn’t like she changed anything else, except wearing the yukata. Did he hate it that much? He said it was good. Was this the sort of situation that wouldn’t be resolved by just listening to what he said?

Wasn’t what he said the truth, regardless of her own feelings? That had to be true.

The ladies were right, though. The current situation wasn’t acceptable. It wasn’t because of Peko’s own vain desires and wants, of course. A tool putting its desires before the welfare of its owner wasn’t just pathetic, it was farcical. It was all for the sake of becoming a better tool, which was surely all that Fuyuhiko could want out of her.

That was a truth that wouldn’t change, no matter how much they talked it over.

“Hey,” He greeted her without looking away from the diner’s window. “Should have known you’d know where to find me.”

The more they associated, the more others would notice. While they often acted in absurd ways, the Ultimates were far from stupid. If anything, they were the elite of this world. A group not to be underestimated by any measure. It could render the whole exercise in secrecy pointless, becoming closer. Until something changed, then…

No. It was pointless to speculate. Even if they were back home, there were some things that were within the realm of possibility.

Other things could never be.

_You can wish the mountain away, but it’ll still be there tomorrow._

Peko Pekoyama could act the part, but she was not a normal college student. She wasn’t a lovelorn normal girl, or much of a human being at all. She’d never learned how to be.

Abandoned by her biological parents, she was taken in by the Kuzuryuu Clan.

From birth, she was raised for the sole purpose of becoming a blade. She learned everything that would help that purpose, and nothing that was pointless for a weapon. She trained relentlessly, and endured hardship and conflict without end.

She was the sword of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, and that was it.

If he wanted her to protect something, she would do it. If he wanted somebody to die, he just had to think it. It would be done without question. He could wield her as his ultimate weapon with scarcely more thought than moving his own hand.

She knew him better than he knew himself.

If he ordered her to die, she would do so.

This was a devotion deeper than that of lovers. Deeper than most people could even comprehend. It was born of absolute purpose, conviction, loyalty, and the discipline of the Ultimate Swordswoman.

It was her purpose that gave Peko the strength to fight, and kill.

It was a purpose that Fuyuhiko hated.

_“I don’t need a fucking tool.”_

How often had he told her that, growing up?

Her very presence was a reminder of his position in the Clan. What he’d been given simply for being born. How could he not resent her? Some part of him wanted to push her away, not because it gave him an advantage, but because he was ashamed.

“In or out,” Fuyuhiko sighed. “You’re letting out the AC.”

She made sure the door was shut first, and then looked around. The diner was otherwise empty. She took a seat across from him at the table. “I suppose even now, we’re not safe.”

“Last time, Kaede heard us clear across the damn island. We can’t have anything resembling a ‘private conversation’, ever. So bear that in mind going forward.”

“Understood.”

Fuyuhiko looked like he was about to carry on, but stopped, as he focused back out the window. Peko followed his gaze, and saw Hiyoko, running from the direction of the private beach back towards the bridge. She was disheveled, but from the glimpses of her face that Peko could make out, she was crying profusely.

“Perhaps something has happened,” Peko suggested.

“Nah. Or at least, we already know what it was.” Fuyuhiko pointed towards the mouth of the tunnel, where Mahiru and Rantaro emerged. They tried to follow Hiyoko, but even wearing chunky wooden sandals, the Ultimate Traditional Dancer was impossible to outpace. They were left in her dust.

It wasn’t safe to talk about each other, but talking about others was fine. “Dunno what the brat was expecting,” He smirked. “I mean, did she really think she had a shot? She doesn’t even look old enough to be going to high school, much less uni. And she sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, either. I’d be amazed if Mahiru could even see her as a woman.”

“For that matter, we don’t even know if Mahiru is _that way_ ,” Peko nodded, preparing herself a quick meal out of the diner’s offerings. It wasn’t anything approaching Teruteru’s quality, and lunch was still a while off. It gave her something to do, though, to avoid giving away her nerves. “She was a fool to even think it was possible.”

“Yep.”

Never before in the nearly two weeks since she’d come to Gopher Island did Peko feel a shred of pity for the insufferable blonde brat.

Now, she at least understood something about her.

She understood all too well.

What the Ultimate Swordswoman didn’t understand why this foreign food appealed so deeply to Fuyuhiko. She did her best to understand its flavor and texture, the cooked meat of the steakburger, the toppings adding flavor and zest. The copious grease. So much grease, she had to be careful for her yukata, even though the color wouldn’t show any stains.

They knew to save room for lunch, as Teruteru had something even better planned.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “Look. I’m the one who invited you in the first place. So it would be a massive dick move to just sit by now, right?”

Peko would literally die, if that’s what Fuyuhiko wanted.

Yet he was fretting about wasting her time. Peko allowed herself the tiniest ghostly flicker of a smile. “If you want some time alone, that’s perfectly fine.”

“It’s probably safer if we stick together,” Fuyuhiko said. “I mean, a traitor could pop out of nowhere at any time, right? Everyone’s forgetting that. They’re too damn soft, these civilians.”

Peko nodded. “It’s like we’re in another world.”

“Normally, hanging out would be tough for us. But today, nobody will bat an eye. That means it’s alright.”

Ah.

He was pulling the same mental gymnastics that Peko herself faced. To get to the point that she desired, which meant…

Feeling like any part of her existence could be compared to Fuyuhiko was too strange for words.

Yet, now, there was something.

Could she call it the faint glimmer of hope?

“There are many events planned after lunch,” Peko said. “Including, but not limited to, an amazing display of Hajime's new musical talent. Supposedly. As a member of Security, I’ve been asked to stay available and patrol high-traffic areas. The simplest way to accomplish that would just be to attend the big events. Together?”

Fuyuhiko still didn’t meet her gaze.

“Together.”


	11. 1-11b. Lonely Hearts Club (Ibuki)

Seven Minutes in Heaven was a fun game, if you had the right partner.

Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician, didn’t.

“It’s impossible.”

No fun allowed. Sealed alone together while their friends sat back and giggled. Ibuki’s world-class ears had no trouble hearing them all make jokes past the thick wooden door of the supply closet in the old building.

The truth of what was going on, dear readers? A fat load of nothing! Literally! Even the bigger, nicer, more handsome brand of Byakuya Togami was a gigantic wet blanket.

Being bigger just made him a better blanket.

Ibuki would have happily used him as an actual blanket, or maybe a mattress, but it didn't seem like that was in the cards in the next like, six minutes.

“You’ve got no clue how often Ibuki has ignored people telling her things are a bad idea.”

Ibuki gave off a pretty cool line there, crossing her arms over her chest with determination. After all, naysayers were like the speed limit.

They could be ignored without consequence.

“No, I have some idea. Normally, your boundless energy would be quite admirable.” Twogami looked down the glasses perched on the tip of his nose, arms folded over all that fat. He looked at her just as he had earlier, when they went off to have A Big Important Serious Talk.

There was a lot of Byakuya stuffed into that white suit-jacket, so it was amazing how fast he could walk while dragging a former light music club member by the ear.

Pretty niche skill there!

Haha.

Ibuki’d really messed this up, huh?

In a way, Miu crashing through the backstage area of Leon’s lab earlier was a mercy.

However, with the coming of the afternoon, a renegade bottle with an agenda had other plans. Call it fate, call it luck, call it a bottle deciding to stop somewhere. Attempts to resist this fate didn’t work so well, with Mondo out there enforcing something called The Bro Code, and cracking his knuckles.

So, here they were. Together again. Alone.

At least there was plenty of room. Lots of cobwebs, poor lighting, and tons of random stuff piled all around. At least they weren’t choking to death on dust, since Nagito had taken the time to clean Class 2's abandoned building for the party.

What a helpful guy. Why couldn’t Byakuya just go with the flow like him?  
  
“I did not say ‘this is a bad idea’. Although it is. One day, you’re going to have to learn give up when something is impossible.” Byakuya said. “It may as well be today. You are a grown woman, Ibuki.”

“Oh, so you have noticed Ibuki in various ways~ My my.”

Ibuki’s attempts to strike a sexy pose didn’t work well, since with only the sliver of light that leaked in beneath the closet door, almost nothing could be seen. Really, the only thing that would stand out were the metal bits pierced liberally through her face and ears. And that radical streak of purple through her hair.

“Do you know what it means to be an adult?” Byakuya demanded, face turning some interesting colors. Good effect on target.

“... When you realize that you, and everyone you love, is gonna die?”

Byakuya stared. “That… is a shockingly classic answer. I have heard learned men suggest that. However, I cannot help but disagree. Or rather, that is not the only path to become an adult.”

“... So, like, we are gonna get busy? Ibuki is getting some pretty mixed signals here, and time’s a-wastin.”

“Another excellent way to grow more mature is to realize that the world is under no obligation to give you what you want.” Byakuya pointed a pudgy finger in Ibuki’s face. “Even I, with the backing of the Togami name, was not served the world on a silver platter. I have gone to battle, and won my right to become the Ultimate Affluent Progeny.”

“Ah, so we’re telling each other our backstories and stuff rather than, like, making out.” Ibuki grinned nervously. “I guess that’s okay too. Ibuki was born in Nagano, actually, although her family soon moved to-”

“We don’t need to go that in-depth, Ibuki. Besides, there isn’t time. For how much you claim to admire me, would you at least listen to my serious reply?”

Ibuki was quiet for once.

“First, I am flattered almost beyond words. You are indeed a lovely woman. You’re the life of any party. No, you set the mood for the whole island, and bring a spark of joy even in grim times. You are the sort of person who is very useful to help people avoid despair.”

Ibuki was never going to object to people pointing out the many ways that she was literally best girl. Her nose grew, as did her smug expression. Twogami obliged her healthy sense of self-worth.

Even if she knew the ‘however’ was coming.

“However, Byakuya Togami does not speak lightly, or choose words in a careless manner. I said it was ‘impossible’. You should consider why.”

“I won’t know that until you explain yourself!” Ibuki replied, in a rare moment of her eternal, saint-like patience running thin. What was the deal here? Why did he think it wasn’t even possible for them to go out? Freaking clam-jammer! “Is it the commoner thing? I could make up a kingdom like Sonia does, and pretend to be a princess from there. If it helps.”

“I’m entirely sure the Novoselic Kingdom is a real place, Ibuki.”

“Ibuki just finds it hard to believe in a place named after goddamn Nirvana!”

“Nerve…?”

“Nevermind. Look, Byakuya. You talk about how you’ve done the impossible before? That’s what Ibuki lives for. I do four impossible things for breakfast, and then waste tons of time on stupid things too!”

“Your boast would be more impressive if you left off the final part.”

“Ibuki isn’t here to impress people. Even though I’ve done a ton of that so far, huh. Ibuki’s been in music clubs all the way since, like, kindergarten. Straight on up through planning on joining the HPA light music club!”

“An institution as grand as Hope’s Peak had even that?”

“Well, if not, then I was gonna found it.” Ibuki sighed. “That’s just my style, and it always has been. Blaze a trail, or blaze it, whatever works. But then our world got turned flip upside-down. It’s helped me stave off the boredom, but this island lacks a certain something. Y’know what I mean.”

“Indeed. The selection of fast food establishments on Gopher Island is woefully lacking.”

Ibuki stared. “Leeeet’s just circle back to telling each other our backstories, kay? So we can clear that flag.”

“I.. cannot talk about my past so lightly as that.” Byakuya looked aside, refusing to meet her eager gaze. “I fear my own skeptical nature is to blame. Doubting others, and being doubted in turn. For a long time, my life was something you’d call a living hell.”

_Ooh, how edgy._

Ibuki tapped her chin. “Ah. Hmm. Since we’re going there… Thinking time!” Once she’d finished running over things in a mental car, the punk rocker concluded, “I’ve heard that when people don’t have enough to eat growing up, they tend to just fixate on it all our lives! Ibuki remembers this documentary about dust devils! Or dust bowls? Dust was definitely involved, and a lot of people who didn’t have enough food to eat.”

“Tch. Are you saying that I, heir to the Togami empire, grew up in such conditions? Is that why I have such a love of food? Absurdity. You, like most people who grew up in the first world, in places of plenty, cannot hope to comprehend that of which you speak.”

The way he talked… was he born outside of Japan?

The whole battle-to-become-the-heir thing had been a worldwide thing. Honestly, it sounded like the plot of some manga, but that just made Ibuki all the more excited to hear about it. He sure spoke about it a lot, for somebody who ‘wouldn’t discuss his past’.

What was with all the contradictions? Ibuki wasn’t here to solve mysteries, she was here to romance cute boys, girls, whoever seemed like fun.

Which swung the question back around to Ibuki herself.

 _Why am I going after_ him _so much, then?_

“It could just be that tournament thing you told me about,” Ibuki said, poking her hair-horns to give her thinking power. “Buuut maybe it’s not. Gotta admit. That vibe like there’s way more to you than you’re letting on? Great with the ladies. Especially this lady! Normally girls are more my style, but you’ve got it going on~”

“It’s true that there are things I just can’t come out and say.” Byakuya sighed and shook his head. “One day, maybe. Especially if we’re all going to live here together, long term. That’s why we’re having this whole Ultimate Festival, after all. We have to embrace each other.” He glared. “Not in that way, wipe the smirk off your face.”

“That’s super impossible,” Ibuki replied. Gremlin mode, activate! “So, if we’re not going to return to our normal lives for, what, years, what’s the problemo? You clearly know of Ibuki’s greatness. You’ve got such a high opinion of yourself. I think you’re the bee’s knees. And of course, Ibuki’s always known that Ibuki was destined to do great things.” Ibuki laid things out with gestures back and forth. “Oh, and to my knowledge, neither of us are… entangled. That all being the case, what’s the hold up?!”

Byakuya let out another ponderous sigh.

He was either pondering something, or that was just Ibuki making another ever-so-clever remark about his weight.

“Put it this way. You feel this affection about the Byakuya Togami that you have grown to know these past weeks, right? Would you feel the same way if I wasn’t that man at all?”

“What do you mean?”

“People tell themselves they’re not shallow enough to care only about appearances, about the exterior layer of a person. For some, that’s true. For most, it’s not. It’s not a sin to be this way, just as it’s not a sin to trust easily. Trust in our modern world is harder and harder to find all the time, and current events will only increase that. Hmm. I think you’re not the sort of person who would care about the superficial layer, though. Not after what you told Hajime.”

Once again, Ibuki’s good deeds in this world were coming around to repay her threefold, just as she’d predicted.

_Just as planned._

She even made the appropriate face, which gave her an unusual, menacing appearance for a few moments.

“You know Ibuki so well~ I don’t care about ‘real yous’ or anything like that. That’s off in the ‘maybe’ pile, and Ibuki’s got no use for maybes. The you standing before me is all that’s real.”

“Real? Hmm.” Byakuya considered these words as their last seconds ticked by. “I’m… real?”

“Well, duh.” Ibuki poked his chest, which was squishy. “See? Real as rain.”

Not that they’d had any of that since that terrible first day. Ibuki thought the sunlight was better, anyhow. Lots of tanning opportunities, and thus chances to catch ladies doing said tanning and admire them.

“That’s true. The man standing before you is _real_ , and that’s all you care about, hm?” He smiled. It was a nice change from his usual expression. “What a carefree approach to life. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell you everything… No. It’s pointless to think about this any more. I accept your proposal, provisionally. We can at least give it a trial run before we adopt the situation fully and I permit you to be my significant other.”

_Oh, Byakuya, you’re so damn romantic I could cry-_

Ibuki knew what she was getting into, though.

She was still grinning like an idiot when the timer went off, and Junko threw open the door with the force of a shotgun blast.

Maybe the Ultimate large-chested Fashionista was expecting to find them entangled in passion.

Well, Ibuki expected that, too! It wasn’t her fault things got all… feelings-y!

Next up, according to Senor Bottle, were none other than the perfect foreign Ultimate Princess herself, and Miu “definitely not really a virgin projecting her insecurities” Iruma. She spoke a real big game about “spoiling that virginal purity”, and Kazuichi cried a lot, but that was just to be expected.

Ibuki would have paid a lot of money to be in that closet at that time, perhaps with a camera. As it was, all she could do was nail herself to the door, and put an ear to it to listen in.

Oh man, they were literally going at it.

She gave a running commentary for the crowd gathered at the door, same was she would for future combos.

She started out brash and bold, but Miu didn’t stay that way long. There were muffled voices and mumbling from each of them, then nobody said anything for a bit. Then Miu began to actually moan. The pink-haired inventor muffled something about an apology. Followed by pitifully begging for mercy.

It didn’t sound like Sonia was keen on stopping before some points were made, though. Antagonizing Sonia Nevermind in that way was a mistake she’d have to live with. At least for the next seven minutes.

By the time the two fine ladies emerged, one looked pristine, and even hyped. Sonia was grateful for all the ‘wonderful new experiences’. The other was a disheveled mess, and prominent lipstick marks could be seen all down her neck. Just Miu’s neck, but man there were a bunch of them, plus hickies and red marks.

Goddamn, but that was hot. Ibuki rubbed her thighs together in a way she hoped wouldn’t be too conspicuous.

“Wow,” Kokichi remarked from the end of the hallway. “Somebody must have told her you had an incredibly sensitive neck or something, Miu. Wonder who did that?”

Miu was such a wreck, she couldn’t even threaten to eat his children or anything. She just gave a weak death threat, and shambled off to the restroom.

_Wonder why~_

Other pairings didn’t result in so many sparks flying, although fate picked out a few fun results that Ibuki took note of.

Makoto didn’t look thrilled at all to go into that closet with Nagito, even though Ibuki, and the rest of the girls without exception, were quite happy about that result.

They could speculate all they wanted, Ibuki could hear them, and they barely said a word.

The only thing Makoto said was _“Keep away from me, or else. You know what’ll happen.”_

Or else what? Makoto and him would engage in an Ahoge Duel?

_Actually, that would be fucking awesome! Do that where Ibuki can see it, guys! If you're not actually going to make out, then it's the least you can do to compensate me!_

It seemed to work to a degree, though, because all Nagito did was try to calm him down, reassure him nothing had to happen, and strike up a friendly, if awkward chat. To no effect.

This game tended to have a few usual results. If people without much of a connection got stuffed in the closet together, they just hung out, talked, or tried to be friendly. If people with beef, as Byakuya would no doubt put it, were put together, things would be tense.

Sexual tension was, of course, released in the most perfect and natural way. There wasn’t enough time to actually get down to it, but making out was a perfectly valid lifestyle choice.

One Ibuki could have made, and fully planned on at some point.

A good example of who _did_ make that choice, though?

Sayaka went in there with Kyouko.

Ibuki didn’t quite catch all of it, but uh, yeah.

Whoa.

That whole thing Sayaka had about being a pure, lovely, sweet down-home girl who never even considered That kind of thing? Evidently, not quiiiiite true.

_Dang, ladies. Cut Ibuki in on some of that action maybe-_

_Wait, Ibuki is now entangled deep within a web of passion and monogamous heterosexual romance._

_... I'm sure if I asked him about it, he'd be very understanding. Boys usually are when they think they'll get to watch, and why not? The Ultimate Affluent Progeny deserves the finer things in life, right?! Ahahaha!_

Makoto talked a big game about respecting people's privacy, but Ibuki could see him peeking the corner of the hallway from the dining area over there. He didn’t have Golden Ears, but Kaede over there sure did. She wasn’t shy about joining Ibuki at the door.

_Come on, Makoto, you know you want to know. Unlock your man's passion or whatever._

Against all odds, he kept himself away until the timer went off.

His loss.

Junko finally succeeded in catching two people in each others’ arms, even if for just a second. Even if Mahiru had been among the group playing, she wouldn’t had time to snap an incriminating, scandalous paparazzi photo. Not before they let go of each other, and Kyouko especially forced her way out of the closet, stomping out in those combat boots down the wooden hallway and out of the building.

As to the specifics of what went on in there?

Well, Ibuki _could_ put it together for the dear reader, based on what she heard. Especially, she could hazard a guess as to who was really the aggressive one in there. When they were out of the spotlight, and thought it was just the two of them, cut off from the world. Cut off from expectation, and free to act only on what they might have truly desired.

That would be a bridge too far, though.

Ibuki would never tell on a fellow musician~

_Workplace solidarity, bitches._

By the time the game wrapped up, the sun was drooping low in the sky. A lot of people were a lot more drunker than they had been when the game started.

Like Ibuki. Maybe.

You can’t prove anything! Not even that Miu had slipped her a little something from her ‘personal reserve’ too, a bribe for keeping quiet about the game.

The sunset was a _**beautiful** _ shade of _neon lavender_ today.

Ibuki needed to go back to her cabin before long, ~~and iron her cat.~~

Somehow, even though the old building had exactly one ~~(? Right?)~~ exit, Byakuya was gone by the time Ibuki got done in the single bathroom and emerged out into the setting sun and _**glorious**_ , fresh air.

He could really move fast, and get out of sight in a hurry. Given his, like, big-ness. He was _big_ , okay?! Okay. Yep.

Hahaha.

Maybe later this evening, she could find some private time with the Ultimate Heir instead. Ibuki had slipped him her number on a slip of paper ~~(hence the name, get it?!)~~ when they got out of the closet, so maybe.

Wait. Wait wait wait wait.

Nobody had their phones anymore.

_Mother **fucker-**_


	12. 1-12a. Three Heartbeats [NSFW] (Sayaka)

Sayaka Maizono, the Ultimate Idol, had done a lot of terrible things.

To others, and to herself.

All for the sake of her dream.

In her darkest hours, when she felt like her humanity was slipping away, somebody was always there for her.

It was a boy she hadn’t heard from since middle school.

Through her years as a teen idol, and through joining the big leagues when she came of age, Makoto Naegi was with her.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends. She made so many fucking friends, the term ‘friend’ lost any meaning. Rivals were friends. An acquaintance was her friend. People she’d never even met felt like they knew her personally, thanks to her work.

Friendship among idols had taught her the value of always having a knife to hand.

_Metaphorically._

When she was on the verge of going too far, or the guilt and humiliation caught up with her and she entertained some very dark thoughts, he was there for her.

He didn’t care what she’d done. What had happened to her. What she let happen, for the sake of advancing in the industry.

He forgave her.

The very fact that they weren’t in touch anymore allowed Sayaka to imagine Makoto Naegi as this faultless ideal, a forgiving angel on her shoulder. What was left of her conscience as a human being. The embodiment of good. She knew better than anyone that nobody was really like that, but it was necessary.

It was how she kept herself going through thick and thin.

She’d been deathly afraid the first time they met back up, in that abandoned ruin.

What if Makoto wasn’t like that boy from middle school anymore?

Worse, what if he was?

Would he be rightly horrified at how much she didn’t match up to her image?

Makoto hadn’t changed, though. It was like he stepped out of her memories, transported from that middle school. The world he’d lived in, the world of normal people, was one where working together was usually the right answer. A kind spirit could do well there, especially if he wasn’t aiming to be the best of the best.

Hope’s Peak was a different matter, much less this post-HPA world. A world of despair. It didn't make sense to Makoto, because he believed in people.

It made perfect sense to Sayaka, who had little faith left in humanity as a whole. She could believe in individual persons, but knew there was no such thing as ‘people’ or ‘everyone’.

This beautiful, cruel world would eat Makoto Naegi alive.

She wouldn’t let that happen, no matter what.

It wasn’t just over that non-incident with the rooms. That was just the face Sayaka put on years of helping her out. He was far too nice for his own good.

The least she could do was be his assistant, and make sure nobody else could take advantage of that blithe, forgiving spirit. This world had a front and a back, and most people were not as unreservedly nice as Makoto. Nor were they terrible people; most people were just people.

As current events showed, even ‘just people’ could be very dangerous, of course. In fact, there was danger among the crowd of Ultimates enjoying the Ultimate Festival.

In addition to maintaining a large social network with people she liked, and forming useful friendships across the group, she made sure to get close ties with the people she disliked, too. She didn’t think much of Angie’s blatant manipulations, and she knew Nagito was insane and dangerous.

So naturally, she did her best to wind up in their company a lot.

Even now, they exchanged friendly greetings as everyone got down to partying. Sayaka put on a kind face with them always. The simple act of smiling could be very taxing, but it was also very effective at accomplishing her goals.

So, suffice it to say, Sayaka was _extremely_ grateful to Makoto.

She had a lot of experience in how to express gratitude.

Fortunately, she’d managed to sway somebody else to their side as well. However much she pretended to be objective and cold, Sayaka could sense burning passion beneath the surface. Just waiting to be unleashed.

“What’s the point of this game?”

Eventually.

Kyouko couldn’t help it, after all. If she was going to keep that sharp, well-dressed, mysterious, dead-sexy vibe going, she had to act like this. The Ultimate Idol patiently responded, “To get to know each other better. To help our teamwork.”

“What are the rules, then?”

Sayaka made a show of pushing up imaginary glasses. “Tell her, Makoto.”

Makoto closed and locked the door to his own cabin, and put three cans of ice-cold sake on the desk. “Ahem. This is the **King’s Game** , Kyouko. A popular party game. Have you heard of it?”

“Only the name, I don’t know about it.” Kyouko shook her head, taking one of the cans and popping the top. “I’m not big into social things. This should help.”

“Well, that’s fine.” Even Makoto, who wasn’t big into anything in particular, knew enough to teach her. “It’s not complicated. In fact, I got a set of playing cards from the casino a while back that are like, made for this. Each round, we draw from a stack equal to the number of people playing. The person who draws number one, the King, uh. Shockingly enough, is the King. The King gets to give an order. Basically, a dare.”

“So it’s like truth or dare,” Kyouko nodded. “Except it could be either. Fair enough. Are there any tricks to the orders?”

“Well, there are one or two things to take note of,” Sayaka admitted, allowing herself just one sip before they began. It would pay dividends to stay sharp, so she could continue masterfully shaping events. “Just to make things a little more fair and a little more random, we’re going with the rules that say the King can only give orders to numbers. Like, the King is one, then there’s two and three. Who change each round. And of course, the King doesn’t know who’s who.”

“Could you give orders to two and three both?” Kyouko asked.

Sayaka shrugged, reclining on a bed she’d grown all too comfortable with. “That’s fine. In a group of just three, that shouldn’t be any problem. Oh, and by the way. The King’s orders… are almost absolute.”

“Almost absolute?”

“Considering we’re drinking, and our obvious raging sexual tension, things are gonna get crazy.” Sayaka giggled. “So, just to make sure nobody has to do anything they’re against, we’ll use the **penalty system**. You can refuse an order, but you have to down the rest of your drink.”

“It’s like surrendering,” Makoto nodded. “Backing down.”

Unlike both ladies, who were being judicious with their intake, Makoto was going for a lot of that liquid courage immediately.

_Good boy._

“Interesting.” Kyouko nodded. Sayaka’s totally legit psychic powers told her that Kyouko wouldn’t be submitting, unless she felt there really wasn’t any other choice. She wasn’t the type. “Is that all?”

“One more rule.” Sayaka held up her pointer finger, excellently manicured with long nails as always. Sparkly blue nail polish matched the hue of her hair. “ **Escalation**. Each order has to be more extreme than the last.”

“Extreme? That’s subjective,” Kyouko remarked.

“It’s a good guideline to keep things moving.” Sayaka said. “And to stop Makoto from chickening out~”

“Hey! I-I’m in this all the way!” Makoto insisted. He looked like he wanted to flee. Even though he was no longer a teenage boy, and all those hormones should have been settling down, he was still sitting on a bed with two stunning, knockout-class women-of-his-dreams.

_It’s only natural to feel awkward. But I’m not letting you, or her, get away tonight. Not without making progress._

_Stagnation is death._

Makoto shuffled the miniature deck. “Oh, I just realized. Should I not be the one to shuffle?”

“Why?” Sayaka asked.

“I mean, my, for lack of a better word, talent.” Makoto shrugged. “Will it, like, throw things off? Or give me an unfair advantage?” He sounded a little excited by that possibility.

“I doubt it’ll matter,” Kyouko said without a second thought. Sayaka nodded.

Makoto looked forlorn for a second, but then went back to shuffling. Since he only had three cards, it didn’t take long.

“Don’t be like that,” Sayaka admonished him with a playful tap on the shoulder. “We’ll start feeling bad about poking fun at you. No, really, all Kyouko means is that if your Ultimate Luck is going to kick in, it’s probably gonna do so at any point in the game. So, since you’re in it at all, we should just proceed as though it’s not a thing and do what we’d normally do!”

As if to prove their point, the first round went to the Ultimate Mystery.

Kyouko simply nodded. As if her becoming the Queen was to be expected. What an attitude. That was the kind of confidence that ignited something within Sayaka.

Desire.

**“Two and three, what are your fondest memories?”**

_Whoa, an actual serious question! This wasn't in the contract._

While panicking at this outbreak of sincerity on the inside, she maintained her outward aura of calm. “Hmm. Interesting,” The Ultimate Idol remarked. “Makoto, would you like to go first?~ I am just your assistant, after all.”

In other words, she needed a moment.

Makoto could be quick on the uptake, fortunately. “Sure. I mean, I’ve lived a totally normal life before going to Hope’s Peak,. So it might seem kinda boring to you two. You’ve both incredible.”

“For certain values of incredible,” Kyouko responded. “I’m asking because I need to understand both of you, if we’re going to be collaborating.” Kyouko didn’t mind being all mysterious, but demanded to know about others, huh? “So I’m saying you’re right, Sayaka.” Score! “And I have a special interest in memories, of course. It’s a long shot, but maybe if you two talk about yours, I might be able to recall something.”

“Worth a try.” Makoto stroked his chin. “‘Fondest memory’ is tough. I’ve got a lot of good memories I wouldn’t trade for the world. I could talk about the big party the whole neighborhood threw for me when I won that lottery. Or that crane I rescued with Sayaka in middle school. Or my memories of Koro, when I was a kid.”

“Koro?”

_Oh?_

Kyouko just had their shared past dangled in front of her, and turned away to ask about something else.

_Potentially very telling._

“The family dog,” Makoto explained. “He was like Komaru. They were two peas in a pod. Sometimes we all got along great. Sometimes we got on each others’ nerves. Hey, but we were always close. The three of us would end up, I dunno, getting into all sorts of dumb situations. The hard-charging eager little sister, the dog always running ahead, and hapless Big Bro Makoto trying to get them to maybe stop. Dogs will be dogs, though.”

“This is the same sister who’s a gigantic Sayaker now, by the way,” Sayaka put in.

“No accounting for taste,” Kyouko replied.

Makoto’s smile grew at that, but now there was something else behind his eyes. He looked aside. “Maybe it’s obvious, but uh, Koro. Not with us anymore. Dogs just don’t last as long as people do. Dad got him from a shelter, too, and uh, yeah.”

“That’s part of your fondest memories?” Kyouko asked.

“Hey. If I’m gonna remember somebody, I’ll remember everything. Good and bad. It’s just my way. I could be sad he’s gone, or think about all the years we had together,” Makoto replied. “I haven’t got much going for me but honesty and optimism. So I’ve got to cultivate those.”

Those were good, and rare, virtues in men nowadays.

It was sad that Sayaka needed to _mitigate_ both.

Not remove them entirely. That wasn’t possible. Makoto would literally sooner die than give up on his friends, or his values. As he’d proven on the cliff that first day.

_I won’t let you die for some dumb reason, though. Like trying to be a hero of this crazy story._

Mercifully ignorant of Sayaka’s thoughts, the real version of Makoto kept on smiling. Smiles had a lot of power, and his could melt concrete. Or even, with extended application, Kyouko. “Even when other people would get really sad, well. Everything has a season, and stuff. It’s like a reminder that we should cherish the time we have. You never know what’s gonna happen tomorrow!”

“Another set of new islands will open. More bothersome situations will present themselves,” Kyouko said. “That much is certain. But you’re right. Dwelling on terrible things is foolish. Even you knew better. Sayaka, your turn.”

“So demanding, Your Highness. Have you finally taken an interest in me?~”

“I’ve explained it to you already,” Kyouko said, refusing to take the bait. “What’s your fondest memory?”

“It has to be…” Sayaka sighed wistfully. “The work my group did with Make-A-Wish of Japan. Do either of you remember the concert we threw with… that young girl?”

Kyouko shook her head, but Makoto looked startled after a moment’s reflection. “Oh, oh. Komaru told me about it. Keiko, right?”

“Keiko Kuwabara. I was a little shocked when the foundation contacted my manager. But apparently, Keiko, at the age of ten, was a huge fan. We visited her at the hospital. We brought her over to visit our offices, and then worked together on a performance.”

Sayaka gazed off, far into the past.

_Into the awestruck brown eyes of a little girl. Black pigtails, dark complexion, a Kansai-ben accent or something that was just cheek-squishing adorable. She was going to die, but that didn’t register for one moment on her face, or in her voice, as she got a tour of the office and saw the racks of glittery and flashy outfits._

_She’d wanted to try on them all, but child-sized outfits were tough to come by in a unit without any children. Still, they did their best._

_Sayaka remembered a massive stadium of people. One of countless numbers across the world, yet totally memorable. Forgetting it, or that day, was impossible. Waves of glowsticks moving like a living ocean. The bright neon colors shimmering like light striking the water, or ocean waves crashing into the sand. Complete with a roar. The cheering of the crowd. The look of astonishment, of true childlike wonder, on Keiko’s face._

_One perfect moment, framed in time. Immune to any of the tragedy that came afterwards. One example that, just like Makoto, reminded her of what it meant to be human._

“It was the only time anybody took the Center spot from me, you know. Just that once.”

“You two…” Kyouko shook her head. “I’m sorry. It was my own assumption that all the cheer and happiness you put on for other people meant you didn’t go through such experiences.”

“No. I mean it when I say that’s a fond memory,” Sayaka shook her head. “It’s just a lot to bring up right away, you know? Heavy. This is supposed to be, like, a party.”

“That’s my bad,” Kyouko nodded. “Thank you for your honesty. Both of you. Let’s go again.”

Sayaka emerged victorious this time, jumping up onto the bed in delight.

**“Ahem. Number three, have you ever kissed a boy?~”**

_Now this is a party game question. Plus, it doesn’t matter who’s number three. It’ll be fun either way._

Kyouko raised her gloved hand. “That’s easy. Yes.”

She didn’t feel the need to elaborate any further.

_That’s just your style, huh? Well, unfortunately, Queen Maizono I always gets her way!_

_Just like mom taught me. Just dig in those heels, and stand your ground._

“The King decides when the order has been satisfactorily completed! And that answer doesn’t satisfy us at all, Kyouko. We will have details, please. Ex boyfriend? A recent fling? Wild drunken partying? Okay, probably not the last one.”

“Your order was to ask me if something was true, or not.” Kyouko met her gaze, expression blank and impassive as ever. “I confirmed that it was true.” She shook her head. “Next round, please.”

Was that a flourish of slightest pink on those ghostly pale cheeks?

_Maybe it's fine like this._

Sayaka’s dark and complicated schemes would have to wait. Kyouko took control. If this game was just going to be the two of them passing the baton back and forth, would that make Makoto lucky, or unlucky?

**“Two, what aspect of your talent do you enjoy the most?”**

Sayaka tapped her chin. “Hmm. Oh, I’m two, and, well. There’s a lot of things to love about my talent. There’s a lot of challenges, too. I almost can’t pick just one thing. Being the Ultimate Idol isn’t just about singing or dancing, putting on performances, or dressing up.”

_Although those are some of the perks._

Sayaka leaned forward on the bed. “It’s about the fans. Like interacting at fan events. Signing autographs onto things, onto people occasionally. It’s about getting mountains of fan mail. We had a couple of staffers full-time, just to sift through the messages, and pass the good stuff on.”

“There’s still times I can’t really believe you’re here,” Makoto admitted. “I mean, like. You know how sometimes, when you say a word too often, it stops sounding like a real word? It just becomes a mess of sounds… Am I the only one?”

“No,” Kyouko said, with a faint smile behind her hand.

“It’s like that, but with… reality. Even compared to the other extraordinary people here, you’re like. Extra-extraordinary. An international celebrity! And you're just here, and you hang out with everyone. Heck, you even hang out with me.”

“Try not to get too starry-eyed, or she’ll take you for another ride. Wait, Sayaka. Let me guess,” Kyouko intercepted Sayaka’s thought process right out of her own head. “‘Oh, _Naegi-kun_ , I’m just an ordinary girl like you could find anywhere else’. Right? That’s how you’d like others to see you, anyway. It’s an advantage if people habitually underestimate you.”

“It’s true,” Makoto said. “Uh, well, that part is. I’m sure that Sayaka, like… That’s not all there is to it, right?”

“Not all,” Sayaka confirmed playfully. “It is a nice side-benefit. But seriously, nobody thinks of themselves as ‘the great international celebrity rich famous person Sayaka Maizono’. Or rather, most people in that position shouldn’t. If they do, they’re not the sort you’d ever want to meet in person.”

“Personal experience?” Kyouko asked.

“Personal experience,” Sayaka confirmed. “Togami is also an acceptable answer. So, in short, ‘everything’. If this ended tomorrow, I’d toss myself back into work. By this point, it would even be kind of a mercy. Compared to all this sitting around we do. Next~”

_Well, well, well. Victory again. Time to make this one really count._

**“Number two and three! Remove an article of clothing.”**

What a nice reaction.

Makoto was, of course, ‘foolishly open’ about his surprise. While the purple-haired enigma, wrapped in a mystery, tried to keep her feelings about the order a secret. Sayaka saw that look for just a second, though.

Really, this wasn’t such an extreme order. After all, a fully clothed person could sacrifice several articles of their clothing before things got risky. Makoto himself simply pulled off his hoodie and tossed it aside, towards a messy pile of similar green clothing.

Sayaka would have to tidy that up later.

Kyouko took off her black socks, and folded them neatly.

_Aw, come on, guys. Where’s your party spirit?_

Regardless of anybody’s intentions, though, the game had changed. Sayaka had dropped the escalation bomb, and set the tone for all that was to follow.

A great place for Makoto to finally draw his first turn. Even if he didn’t agree. Even with enough sake in him to take the edge off things, he still had trouble getting it out. **“N-Number three, get us some more drinks, please.”**

_Aw. A physical order, but also a pretty ‘safe’ one. Nice lateral thinking._

Kyouko wasn’t gone long, for the entire island had a ready supply of drinks. Usami would probably condemn drinking among her students, everyone thought. Yet copies of her were happy to serve up whatever Tsumugi wasn’t around to provide. Kyouko had a large sake bottle underneath one arm, and a tray with already-filled shot glasses. The clinking of ice cubes against the glass was minimal, showing her excellent sense of balance as she set it all down on Makoto’s cluttered desk.

All three of them were grateful to indulge by this point. Sayaka managed just a few more sips before getting control. Luckily, Makoto’s bed was, like all of them, modern memory foam. It didn’t transmit movement like those old spring mattresses, meaning she could confidently set down her glass.

When everyone was settled came the advent of the next round, and Kyouko’s stone-faced order.

**“Two, sit in three’s lap until the end of the next round.”**

A shot fired back in return. One that was guaranteed to hit Sayaka, whether she was giving or receiving.

“How bold, Kyouko. But for us, this is less than nothing.”

This configuration was definitely for the best. Giving that order to try and embarrass them would backfire spectacularly. Without one instant of hesitation, Sayaka planted her firmly-toned perfect thick backside onto Makoto’s lap.

_All those squats are really going to pay off now._

He had a tough time thinking clearly after that. What with the girl of his dreams in his lap, and taking no particular care to hold still. In fact, Sayaka took great pleasure in subtly grinding against him. Moving her wide hips in tiny circles. Imperceptible, hopefully, for the keen-eyed Kyouko. Felt very much by Makoto himself.

He quivered beneath her, a warm, slightly shaky pillow. Boys were supposed to be hard, but he was soft. Except in one particular area, which was getting hard, fast. It was like a little compliment his body paid to her.

Or rather, quite a sizable compliment. _My, my._

Was his ‘talent’ the reason for that too?

There it was. The pleasant pine-tree smell from Makoto’s choice of trendy body wash. It was on his bed, that Sayaka had grown so accustomed to. Sliding off to sleep embraced by it and his blankets. Frankly, it saturated the air, hitting both girls when they entered the college boy’s natural habitat.

Now, though, it was just coming from Makoto himself, beneath her.

This game had been such a good idea already. And there were only getting started.

It was impressive how Makoto managed to stay focused long enough to realize he was the King. Not that he could hide what card he drew from Sayaka, in such close proximity. Likewise, Sayaka didn’t bother to hide what she had from him. A little conspiracy brewing, and a micro-test for Makoto.

After all, his order could be as simple and straightforward as ‘Three, stand up’ if he wanted this to end. On the other hand...

**“T-Two, finish the rest of your drink.”**

Sayaka couldn’t help a triumphant smile.

Kyouko didn’t have too much left in her original can of sake. She chose that to empty, turning it upside-down and drinking the rest in one go. While she did, Sayaka kept teasing Makoto as a reward for being such a good boy. Ensuring he was good and hard for the rounds to come. When Kyouko had finished, though, Sayaka’s time was up. With a little pout, the blue-haired idol rose from her living chair.

For now.

It must have amused the whims of fate to see Makoto squirm, because he was the King again. His voice and demeanor didn’t have much regal authority, but maybe he was fired up from that teasing.

**“Uh, three, where are you m-most sensitive?”**

_Oh, Kyouko. I wonder how she’ll dance around this one-_

“My hands.” Kyouko held up one, covered entirely in her stylish leather glove. They had to be custom-made for her hands, because they fit like a metaphorical as well as a literal glove. The material looked pretty fine, but also durable enough to serve her well and protect her from… whatever. What was underneath those gloves?

“That just makes me more curious than ever,” Sayaka said. “I’d love to see your hands one day, Kyouko.”

“You really wouldn’t,” She replied. “Next.”

When the result was considered, Sayaka couldn’t help a giggle. “Maybe we should have stopped him when we got the chance, Kyouko. I think we’ve created a monster.” A boy could give both of them any commands he could think of. Such power, in the hands of a lot of guys on the island, would be dangerous.

Or, as Sayaka preferred to think of it, _exciting_.

**“Two and three, maybe kiss?”**

As one, both girls turned their gazes towards one profusely sweating lucky boy. Neither of them looked displeased, necessarily. Sayaka of course was smiling. If anything, her smile grew wider, as an assumption was shattered, and she was presented with an interesting dare. Kyouko, on the other hand, still looked blank.

Even so, two girls staring at him like that, after he'd just said something so foolishly bold, was enough to make the shreds of his courage crumble immediately. "I mean, like, I could come up with something else, if that's no good. Probably way too far, right?"

"No," Kyouko said. "The King's orders are absolute. I don't feel like taking a penalty just to avoid this. Sayaka?"

She shrugged. "It actually sounds fun, if I'm being honest."

"So, it's settled."

Kyouko didn't give Sayaka any chance to savor the moment. The two girls rose to their feet, facing each other.

An awestruck Makoto, who had doubtless only seen such things in online videos or magazines, got to watch two girls embrace. And do more then that. Kyouko surrounded Sayaka with a hug, pulling her close, trying to establish physical dominance. With this, she could try and control the pace, and how the kiss went.

It didn't help much, of course. Sayaka had a world of experience. Not just with kissing in general, but kissing girls in specific. In finding Kyouko's weak points, evaluating her, and exploiting them. From the way Sayaka stood, to the smoldering gaze she fixed Kyouko with. The way she used her tongue, sucked and then released. The taste of Sayaka's lipstick, and of her mouth. It was overwhelming for somebody who was clearly not used to physical contact.

That brave facade was only skin-deep. Sayaka could see right through her.

Given her vast pool of experience, even just counting girls, it was impossible for Sayaka to avoid comparing her to others. Past dalliances, experiments, and intense makeout sessions.

Producer forbade them to have _boy_ friends, after all, so...

Compared to some of those experiences, this kiss really wasn't anything, physically. What made it so memorable, an event that Sayaka would remember, was how close she got to a closed-off, secretive, isolated girl. She was let into Kyouko's world, into her space, even to some degree into her head.

It wasn't a very long kiss, since Kyouko decided when to back off, and did so as soon as things got heated up. Even so, Sayaka would cherish those moments. The memory of what she tasted like, those lips, her mouth, the way her eyes shifted around and refused to meet Sayaka. Most precious of all, the tiny, faint blush had fully bloomed.

Kyouko's red face was a memory to cherish.

Makoto's jaw hung open for a while, before Sayaka asked, in a tone of pure angelic innocence, "Was that good?"

"Yes," Kyouko and Makoto replied at the same time. Realizing this, both only grew more red.

_You are both way too precious for this world._

Sayaka assumed, after that, Makoto had exhausted his luck. Yet, again he emerged the King, a four-round winning streak now. It wasn't like the odds were too bad for such a thing to occur, although they had to chock it up to his Ultimate ability.

Makoto didn't have long to think about how to top his own order, and escalate things further. He said in a tone of gaining confidence and assertiveness rare to hear from his high voice, **“T-Two and three, take off your panties.”**

"Power has gone straight to your head," Kyouko remarked.

"Does that mean you'll refuse?" Sayaka asked. "It's not like a kiss, where it takes two to really tango. We can each decide if we're willing to part with our underwear, just because this guy decides he should start a collection."

"I didn't mean, like, you had to give it to me, or anything..." Makoto objected uselessly.

"With all the rumors floating around about Hajime, we should have expected this," Kyouko said, tone harsh. "You are just the smaller version of him, after all."

_In most ways._

Hopefully, at least. Sayaka could scarcely imagine a boy being larger without things getting really uncomfortable for their partner. It was unfortunate in some ways, but she knew how much was too much, and Makoto was right on that boundary...

"I don't want to drink too much," Kyouko sighed. "So, it’s fine."

"There's probably some in the drawers anyhow by this point," Sayaka said. "I'd assumed you wouldn't even go near them, although this makes me reconsider."

When Makoto had been teased sufficiently, both girls removed their panties as ordered.

Neither of them wanted to get undressed, so as if they had synchronized this routine, both just removed them from beneath their skirts. Sayaka slid down a pair of her cute pink panties, with a little frilly bit at the front. Their design looked about as feminine as possible, and they were made of excellent, too-expensive material and custom-fitted to her body, to cause no chafing despite her very active lifestyle.

Kyouko's panties?

Sleek and black.

Nice.

Sayaka laid her panties onto the bed like a royal offering. Kyouko followed suit.

Sayaka was getting way too wet from this; her thighs were already slick, and if Makoto looked at those panties at all through the hands covering his face in embarrassment, he might notice the damp spot.

Kyouko determined that she was the Queen without delay, finally breaking Makoto's tyranny. Just as quickly, and without any of his hesitation, she struck back. The flush on her cheeks was either from how much she'd been drinking, or just a sign of how much things were getting to her without her panties. **"Number two, undress number three completely."**

Sayaka looked down at her card. Number two.

She looked up at Makoto. Number three.

"Understood."

Makoto had withdrawn to his own bed, but that just meant he had no chance to escape. Not that he'd be able to outrun Sayaka on a straightaway, either, but this just made things clear. Instead of struggling, he just closed his eyes, and pretended this wasn't what most Sayakers vividly fantasized about. That fantasy was coming to life, and tugging on bits of his clothing.

First came the shirt. Without his hoodie, removing his shirt and pulling it off him revealed a pale, excessively cute upper body. Not much muscle mass or development for a guy, although Sayaka didn't mind that at all. If anything, his pale, soft skin was too cute. She had to toss in a few playful body kisses, even though that wasn't part of the order, and set him to squirm about. His back and shoulder were excessively sensitive, and receptive to both her touch, and her lips.

Afterwards, Sayaka took the other end, going down to remove his socks and pull them aside with the shirt. "Gonna use that penalty?"Sayaka asked, hands centimeters from the waistband of his pants, looking up at him.

Makoto opened his eyes, and although he couldn't reliably speak, he could shake his head.

What a demure reaction.

Sayaka wasted no time. "Please lift up your hips... _there_ we go." She didn't draw things out. She had those green pants off and tossed onto the pile in a moment. Leaving him only in a pair of white boxer shorts, tent-poled by the size and intensity of his arousal.

Kyouko's eyes were firmly locked there, while Sayaka just glanced at it eagerly before getting to work. The Ultimate Idol peeled down those boxers, until Makoto's dick sprang free, standing up at a curve. In fact, the head was pointed right towards Sayaka, unwavering except to throb more and more in the cool, air-conditioned open air of the cabin.

While Sayaka wouldn’t come out and say something like 'I've seen a lot of dicks, and this one is S-class', she did think it very intensely. Hopefully, she was able to convey such a feeling in the adoring gaze she sent, looking up at Makoto.

Who looked away in natural shame. "Sorry. I mean, you both are just so gorgeous, and things are getting out of hand..."

"It's just a compliment to both of us. Right, Kyouko?~"

"You could interpret it that way."

Cute face. Cute messy hair, with ahoge. Exceptionally cute body, small and cute for a guy. A super cute attitude. There wasn’t any other that word that could summarize Makoto, but ‘cute’.

Their friendly, drunken game was a lot more heart-pounding when Sayaka could get her first, really good look at Makoto without his clothes on.

It got even more so with Makoto’s next order, given after he downed the rest of his drink on the spot. It was something Sayaka also thought she’d never hear coming out of his mouth, ever. Even if the world ended.

 **“N-N-Number three, please make me feel really good!”** Makoto yell-requested, eyes squeezed shut.

It took a while before either Sayaka or Kyouko actually checked their cards.

Sayaka was sorely disappointed to be number two.

On the other hand, assuming Kyouko didn’t take a penalty and decline, she was about to show Sayaka something wonderful. Either way, she’d get to see Makoto squirming in sheer pleasure, unable to resist it. Free of his normal inhibitions and meekness, if just for a little bit.

“If it’s like this because of us, then that only makes sense.” Kyouko had a seat on the bed beside Makoto. The memory foam meant that the motion didn’t transfer, so that quivering, nervous anticipation, and fresh wave of throbbing arousal had to be Makoto’s nerves catching up with the reality of his situation.

“Do you need some help, Kyouko?” Sayaka sweetly offered.

Kyouko shook her head, sending that silky light-purple hair waving through an air thick with sexual tension and anticipation. “Even though I don’t have personal experience, I’m aware of what boys like. Hold still, Makoto.”

_Given your performance earlier, you aren’t too bad with girls, either. I’m going to have to test just how far you’ll go with that one day._

Makoto was scared stiff in every sense of the word, tensing up as he watched Kyouko’s left hand reach out, and finally, tentatively touch the throbbing head of his dick. With that, came a sudden, high moan. Even the most gentle of sensations from the thick, heavy material of those gloves against his skin clearly felt good. All the nerves there meant even an act as simple as a handjob could send him to heaven.

Especially after the wait, after being so pent up. Makoto certainly didn’t seem like the kind of boy who took care of his urges regularly. If he was, he always meticulously cleaned up afterwards, because Sayaka had never found anything like odd stains on clothing or the shower. That, plus his inherent personality, made that a safe thing to assume.

Plus, his reaction to just having Kyouko wrap her hand around his shaft, and squeeze very lightly. Just enough to get her grip around it, although she barely could with one hand. It was so thick, there was so much girth.

It grew before their eyes at Kyouko’s merest touch. Much less from the pressure as she tightened her grip.

In the stillness of Makoto’s cabin, the only things that could be heard were the faint sighs of the small individual AC unit, Makoto gasping for air and making all sorts of super-cute noises, and the faint squeaking groan of leather from Kyouko’s gloves as she tightened her grip, and then slackened, only to tighten up again.

Holding Makoto right below his lower head, and playing that game with his dick, got him squirming in moments.

“S-Sorry,” He apologized needlessly again. “It just feels so good, Kyouko…”

“Thanks,” She replied. “I’m just exploring you right now, so I’m going to try a few things. Let me know if you’re in pain, or you want to stop.”

Makoto nodded, putting on his best determined face, trying to resist the urge to just cum right away. He had to fight his own body, the urges that had to be surging through him.

_Mmmh. Fuck, that's hot._

Sayaka didn’t bother resisting the urge to rub her thighs together anymore. She wanted to see more of Makoto’s pleasure. In fact, she needed it.

Yet when Kyouko relented, stopping right when Makoto was clearly on the edge, that, too, was very acceptable. Especially seeing Makoto’s reaction. Going from relief at the lack of pressure and ache, to a realization that he wanted that relief in a different way. In a release he didn’t get. He didn’t say anything about it, but that look on his face, the way he gripped the bedsheets and tried to still his gasping breaths.

_Oh yes, it's just as fun to tease Makoto as it is to please him._

_Good to remember._

That was also the moment when the Ultimate Idol realized that this whole thing that was developing between the three of them could actually work. Because she watched her Makoto being pleasured by another girl, and her immediate instinct wasn’t to step in, stop this, quarrel, claim.

Well, it wasn’t just _another girl_. If it was, Sayaka truly didn’t know what she’d be capable of.

Since it was Kyouko, it was fine.

Sayaka wanted to understand the enigma, and she wanted Kyouko’s touch and body. She needed Makoto more than anything in this rotting world. Kyouko clearly wanted Sayaka, as did Makoto. And who could blame them, really? Makoto reacted to both of them with puppy eyes, adoration, desire, attraction, and perfectly natural lust.

Relationships of this type were simply unthinkable for some. Immoral to others. Even among those who wouldn’t condemn polyamory outright, most would say it was unworkable. Not for nothing; the jealousy factor alone was huge. Even in a group that worked well together.

Sayaka’s time in show business, and travelling abroad, had shown her that one man and one woman together wasn’t the only possible way. History had countless examples of alternatives, too.

It was far from impossible. They _could_ make it work.

If Makoto and Kyouko both agreed, of course.

That was for another day. A day where everyone was thinking clearly. With their heads, instead of other things. Free of drink and heady young lusts. Or at least not overwhelmed by them.

Tonight was for the immediate, the now, the feeling.

They were, despite it all, still just college kids, after all.

When she won, Kyouko didn’t bother with numbers. This game was approaching its climax at the same rate as the twitching, moaning boy writhing on his own bed. **“Sayaka, pleasure Makoto until he can’t take it anymore.”**

“Certainly.”

Makoto barely had time to stutter that Sayaka didn’t have to ‘dirty herself’.

_Silly. The ship sailed a long time ago on that. Plus, doing something like this, with the boy I love, can’t be ‘dirty’ or ‘wrong’._

The only thing in this world that could stop her now would be a word from Makoto.

_Not likely._

Sayaka got onto the bed, knelt over him, and brought her face low. Right up against his dick. She brushed away a stray lock of deep ocean blue hair, and met Makoto’s wide, innocent, curious eyes. The sight of his childhood friend, an international pop sensation, a gorgeous girl, framed in the same ‘shot’ as his dick, would be carved into his memory forever.

Just like the sudden, inescapable rush of sensations that came when Sayaka got above his dick, opened wide, and took him in a single motion.

Straight down to the hilt, inside her throat. Every bit, until her nose wound up in an untrimmed, messy bit of brown hair, and she could smell his desperate male musk.

The look of astonishment on Kyouko’s face, before she got control of her expression and wrangled it back to neutral, was almost as precious as Makoto’s very dramatic reaction. He thought he knew pleasure, he thought he needed to cum, but that was a mere daydream compared to Sayaka’s mouth.

She sucked intensely, and didn’t let up. While her throat had to accommodate quite a lot of man, she was in no risk of gagging. She had just enough room in there. That meant that the constant pressure from all sides surpassed anything that even Kyouko’s hand could provide. Instead of a band of pressure right beneath the head, Sayaka pleasured the entire length of his dick at once.

Just for good measure, she reached out and cupped his balls, massaging them, as if to say ‘Make a lot for me, please. Don’t hold back’.

They sure didn’t.

Makoto came in Sayaka’s mouth. He was loud enough to make her glad for the soundproofing. He called out, moaned, and made all kinds of adorable noises. As he released so much seed, into a mouth stuffed to its maximum capacity already with him.

Any girl who didn’t know what she was doing could have spilled, and made a mess.

Sayaka swallowed every drop as it came.

All through Makoto’s orgasm, and well past the point it ended and he collapsed onto his back, sprawled out, twitching, eyes dilated. Sayaka kept sucking, getting every leftover drop. Making sure to clean up after herself like a good girl.

Boys loved that contrast, of the pure and the base. It drove even the most innocent guy wild. Makoto's pleasure was her own pleasure tonight, and every night to come.

She’d never cared for the particular taste. Makoto’s seed wasn’t any better in that way. However, the feelings between them made this more than just a physical interaction, and helped her to swallow through the bitter taste. It was better to leave an even greater lasting impression, and make sure the bed she was going to be sleeping on wasn’t dirtied.

More than that, it was the kind of fantasy blowjob that a guy would want. Sayaka gave that to Makoto, not just willing, but eagerly. Finally, on a personal level, she understood a term she’d learned long ago. Enthusiastic consent.

Through actions, rather than a single word, she’d pretty well confessed to him.

Sayaka was sure that had been Makoto’s first blowjob. In most reasonable ways, he was now no longer a virgin. Although Sayaka, personally, considered that kind of thing to involve penetration.

It still felt like she’d popped his cherry.

She felt like a succubus straight from Hell, but in a good way.

When she pulled back, and Makoto’s dick slid from her mouth, the lewd popping sound seemed so loud against the stunned silence. A tiny trail of saliva connected her lips to his now-soft shaft, before the distance was too great and it broke. 

Kyouko had just witnessed something for the very first time in person, that much was also clear as day . Makoto was down for the moment, blown away, literally, by Sayaka’s brazen skill.

Sayaka herself was going to be tasting Makoto long after her mouth was washed out.

The three of them sat like that for some time.

Sayaka didn’t know how long.

She only realized it was over when Kyouko reached over, and took the ‘King’ card one more time. **“You two have gotten all sweaty and sticky. Hit the shower together.”**

Sayaka didn’t literally toss a boneless, relaxed Makoto over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes, but it felt that way as she helped him up, and walked with him over to the cabin’s shower.

There was room for two people, but only just. Sayaka abandoned the rest of her outfit, as Makoto ran some hot water. When Sayaka stepped in, it was already comfortably warm. Intimacy was the rule in this shower, not just from physical necessity, but because both of them wanted to be together.

Sayaka, having the least sake in her system, could also make sure Makoto didn’t fall over and hurt himself.

She kept a nice, firm grasp on him throughout, washing him before turning around, facing the spray of high-pressure water coming down from above, and letting him to the same. Rinse, lather, repeat. Body, and hair.

Nothing else of a lewd nature happened between them, unless the reader is one of those prudes who thinks that a man and a woman merely having a shower together, bathing each other, soaping up, only to rub and rinse down, each others’ bodies in exacting detail was lewd or something.

Well, until Makoto realized that the shower-head was detachable, with a little hose for some room. He started talking about “paying her back”, and then, well.

Sheesh! It really was lucky neither of them fell over and slipped.

That was just to be expected, though. While Makoto’s fortunes often looked like trouble was on the horizon, it always turned out that trouble could benefit him in the end.

Kyouko openly, brazenly touching herself as she watched through the transparent glass shower-door was definitely a highlight, too. For such a stoic, controlled girl to go all out like that was nearly as effective as the shower’s relentless pressure in helping to finally get Sayaka to, well. Relax.

Sayaka and Kyouko kept eye contact as they were pleasured, and that in turn shot jolts of pure pleasure through them, enhancing their sheer sensitivity and leaving Kyouko dripping wet. Makoto’s bed would have some stains that Sayaka could only explain in this way.

Makoto and Kyouko were lucky. The two of them got to hear what the same voice who sang for, and enchanted, countless millions, sounded like when she was moaning out in pleasure for just two people.

This cabin held the three most important people in the entire world, so far as Sayaka Maizono was concerned.

Their night was still young. They were still young, reckless, and drunk.

Sayaka would later, as she staved off one hell of a headache, reflect that it was miraculous none of them went all the way that night, but there was tomorrow.

On Gopher Island, a lazy paradise, there would always be tomorrow.

That idea was foolish. A trick of these beautiful, lush islands. Their white sands and overflowing greenery, the clear blue ocean to all sides, gave the place a timeless appeal. It was a lullaby for the senses. Yet Makoto had said that nobody knew how long they had. They should cherish the moment. After this point, Makoto, Kyouko, and Sayaka did a lot more cherishing of each other in every way that mattered. Nothing was formally decided just yet, but they were well on track.

Makoto even said something silly about 'choosing which'. Or rather, Kyouko told him that he would have to 'choose' eventually, and Makoto promised he would 'make his choice'. It was just possible that neither of them remembered that the next day.

It was just possible they did, though.

_So, all in all. The King’s Game. Everyone’s now closer to being on the same page. Pretty big success, in my humble opinion._

Even my memory of what actually happened starts to get hazy at the end there. Oh well~

Never had there been an assistant who was so greedy, who wanted so much, but also wanted to selflessly serve and help their friend more at the same time.

Sayaka Maizono was a woman of contradiction and paradoxes. Yet, she was loved. She was forgiven.

She'd even, with time, be okay. All thanks to those two.


	13. 1-12b. Heart-Pounding Solos I [NSFW] (Multiple)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big huge thanks to Is_A_Fluff, also known as Tsuchigumo or Derya to the Discord Brigade. For co-writing this chapter with me and helping to explore the sexuality of two lovely Sharp ladies. If you liked this stuff, check out her work without a doubt.
> 
> For that matter, special thanks to YetAnotherSmutWriter for having the best 'Danganronpa girls masturbating' story on the site! It may be a somewhat specific award category, but it did directly inspire this. So go check it out, too!
> 
> Also, the Voyage as a whole has well passed 300,000 words! Which puts it very high on the chart for most words in this fandom's section. Not quite at the top, we'll have to more than double this, but it's only a matter of time at this rate.

Some of the crew put on shows and hosted events across their beautiful island.

Others volunteered for responsibilities, to help the community during the festival.

None would work so diligently that day, or any day, as Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid.

As she explained countless times, her life was work. Or, work was life. While she could be ordered to hold still and cease operations, she couldn’t be ordered to relax, or ‘stop and smell the roses’.

People who spoke with Kirumi found her terse. Not rude in any fashion, for such a thing was unthinkable. She was merely wound up, like a coiled spring. She had no time to stand around. She was particularly driven today, even past her usual amazing, unrelenting work ethic.

Why _was_ she so worked up today?

Kirumi was wearing a vibrator.

It was hidden completely beneath that long, elegant Victorian style charcoal-and-white maid dress. If it made any noise, the layers of the dress absorbed it, muffling any change for it to give itself away.

The tiny hot-pink device was attached with a strap to her upper thigh, and held in place with gentle adherent. Even moving about rigorously, as Kirumi tried, wouldn’t shake it off. It was positioned in a particularly sensitive spot in the valley between her thighs.

In fact, it was _right on her damn clit_. _Fuck fuck fuck._

It didn’t operate continuously. Such a constant assault could be adapted to. Kirumi had endured harsh conditions before, in her service. It was through her sheer determination that she kept going, as if nothing was wrong. Her pride as a maid and as a woman prevented her from, even for one moment, acknowledging the silent little egg as it tormented her with sudden bouts of pleasure.

Pleasure that changed, because the device had a remote control. Which was in the care of the one whose order had put her in this absurd, obscene situation.

Mistress Celestia Ludenberg.

In most situations, requests of a sexual or even intimate nature were automatically declined. It was one of the very few lines Kirumi drew in the sand.

Yet, she made a bet and she lost. Mistress Ludenberg was a special master, who demanded concessions Kirumi would give to nobody else.

Anybody with the temerity to suggest that Kirumi would have known gambling against Mistress Celeste was a bad idea, and thus that she did it on purpose, to lose, to have a ‘respectable’ excuse to engage in this debauchery, would be dead wrong.

No, more than that. If anyone found out about this, they would just be dead. After all, Kirumi knew countless ways in which to quickly, and efficiently, dispose of bothersome persons. Not that she would allow it to come to that, of course.

The shame welling up within the Ultimate Maid matched the sheer intensity and scale of her pleasure. For such a prim and proper lady, the two emotions mixed together, like watercolor paints running into an indecisive mess. As if hope and despair was clashing, in the form of her lewd, base, primal desires. The feelings she kept hidden deep inside on an average day were being drawn out, as jolts of sheer pleasure ran up and down her spine and made her shiver.

All her turmoil and arousal was on the inside, of course. To the other Ultimates, nothing was different about her today.

Kirumi had a hand in helping every event throughout the day, even if only in small ways such as carrying items or setting them up. The only exceptions were made for cases like Kokichi and Gonta’s Insect Meet and Greet, which was less a fun public event, and more ‘terrorism’.

Most of their small society made a showing throughout the day, even the antisocial types. There were only a scant few exceptions to this rule.

While the larger Master Byakuya Togami, dressed in white, even deigned to attend, his slim, black-wearing counterpart didn’t. The other Master Togami, the one far more familiar to Kirumi as a cordial acquaintance, chose to go back to his room and seal himself up like it was his tomb.

When Kirumi checked up on him, the Ultimate Affluent Progeny confirmed that he was okay, and had no particular requirements or requests except solitude.

“I’m in no mood for all this frivolity. Not with my research. The documents I’ve had to move from my Lab for safety’s sake all require my attention. This situation… I suppose even with you, discretion will be valuable. Until I’m certain of what’s to come. In any case, I don’t know how you can stand these ants giving you orders, Kirumi. Become my personal maid, and take orders only from somebody with a suitable station in life.”

As always, Kirumi politely, firmly declined that ‘great offer’.

When she left Master Togami’s cabin, however, she found somebody lurking outside. Perhaps the greater reason that set the young master into brooding seclusion.

Touko Fukawa, the Ultimate Writing Prodigy.

A nervous girl all in purple, thin and frail. Gloomy, reclusive. Her large tortoise-shell glasses often gleamed in the tropical sunlight, in the few occasions where she could be found in it. She was hostile to all other forms of human life, to varying degrees, but openly smitten with Master Togami.

Much to his dismay.

If Kirumi cared about Master Togami’s particular feelings on the matter more, she might try to discourage this one-sided schoolgirl crush. The Ultimate Maid couldn’t ignore that kind of consideration, even if she was badly distracted.

Mistress Celeste had hit the ‘medium’ setting, hopefully. For if the rush of pleasure going through her body was merely the ‘low’ setting, then even Kirumi would collapse before the day was over, a humiliated pervert cast out by this small society.

Even with her worries, Kirumi would never knowingly take pleasure in watching Mistress Fukawa bother Master Togami. Or in how she was romantically doomed, and had no chance at all to succeed in her pursuit.

They were two miserable people, and others said they were made for each other.

Kirumi was a faultless maid only interested in service. Of course, she had no opinion on the matter.

“Mistress Fukawa, good morning. Are you here to see Master Togami?”

Touko couldn’t deny it. “I w-was thinking of… asking Master to come to my book club later. Even if it meant going out among all these… two-faced insects.”

Kirumi shook her head. “I won’t try to discourage anything you truly desire. In fact, as a maid, I must help you achieve those goals. Would you like me to speak with him?”

“Tch. N-Nobody said life was easy. Or that I need your loathsome pity, you human doll. Don’t you have other people to baby into helpless dependency? R-Run along.”

With a _rotten, festering fuckingattitude_ like that, Kirumi was happy to move on.

Once she could, in fact, move without falling over. Lightning went straight up Kirumi’s spine and caused her to shiver in that moment, nearly biting her tongue. Luckily, Touko was always shaking with anxiety, and absorbed in her own angst. She didn’t notice the beginnings of a blush until Kirumi was away.

There was no way to predict when the vibrator would turn on, for how long, or at what intensity. At its lowest setting, she could pretend to ignore the effects. Even if long-term exposure was conditioning her entire body to a background buzz of pleasure. The high settings were more difficult, though.

Mistress Celeste showed some small measure of mercy. She rarely used the high setting for more than twenty seconds.

There were limits, after all. Despite what the bothersome boy Kokichi suggested, she was merely human like anyone else. In fact, because of her single minded dedication, favoring service above all things in life, she had little experience with carnal matters.

Her resistance to pleasure and teasing was low, because she didn't permit such things normally. She should have declined Mistress Celeste’s order. Kirumi wasn’t even being paid. She was basically just a volunteer, bound by no contract or oath.

After a lifetime of self control, putting her most private places into the hands of a trickster was one of her poorest decisions.

That was what gave Kirumi such a sinful rush of excitement.

“... Ah, Kirumi! Greetings.”

The Ultimate Princess, Sonia Nevermind, greeted her as though there was no wide gap in their status. She was, in attitude as well as appearance, the opposite of Master Togami.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness. I trust you are well?”

Kirumi still curtseyed and bowed her head low, even if Mistress Sonia always instructed her not to. It was the duty of the Ultimate Maid to understand which orders were real, and which were just mouth-noises.

“For the most part. Things are progressing quite well with that matter we discussed yesterday, regarding the rift between Gundham and Kazuichi.” The blonde princess gave a smile fit to match the sun’s brilliance. “Your advice was hella boss!”

“The success of my clients is my only goal,” Kirumi responded with flawless poise. Which was helped by the fact that the little egg between her diamond-crushing thighs had fallen still for a while. She could still feel it down there, but it no longer felt the need to send her into spasms of raw, lurid pleasure right in front of other people. “... If you do not mind my impertinence, what do you have there?”

“Ah, this?” Her Majesty held it up for Kirumi to see, confirming the suspicions that had caused a cold lump to form in her stomach. “I am not entirely sure, I was hoping perhaps you might know.”

That was indeed, in Sonia Nevermind’s hand, the remote control to Kirumi’s vibrator.

Kirumi had to remember to breathe.

“It is clearly a remote control of some kind.” Kirumi forced herself to take a deep breath. “As to what exactly, I’m sorry, but I could not hazard a guess.”

On the one hand, this was the source of that merciful reprieve. Kirumi had been right on the edge for some time, trying to resist an orgasm, and now she could get her feelings back under some form of control.

As soon as she defeated the rising tide of panic from Sonia’s curiosity, on the other hand.

“Darn! Celeste gave this to me as a gesture of goodwill, ‘between European nobility.’ Yet I cannot even figure out what it does. Or rather, to be more specific, what it’s doing something to. … Did I order that sentence properly? I am still but a learner in your charming, quaint language.”

“The meaning was conveyed. However, investigation hardly seems to be a fitting use of your festival day, Your Highness,” Kirumi said, mustering an even tone from a lifetime of professional practice. “If you desire, I can take that off your hands.”

“Thank you for your kind offer, Kirumi, but I would not want to burden you even more. I’ll just point it at various things around the island, and-”

“A-Aah!”

Sonia thumbed over the ‘high’ setting, bringing the vibrator from zero to sixty in an instant.

Thus, bringing Kirumi’s long-suffering body, battered by pleasure, from zero to sixty as well. Her nerves were on fire. Her limbs tingled. She doubled over for a moment, about to collapse to the ground.

On the verge of showing a most humiliating display to Mistress Sonia.

Her mind went blank with pleasure, and Kirumi came right there, standing up, trying with every muscle in her body to remain still and quiet in spite of her own instincts.

For what was the first, and most certainly would not be the last, time on this exhausting day.

She disguised it as a coughing fit, which drew Sonia’s concern. “My. I knew it. Overworking yourself to this point is just too sad.” Mercifully, Sonia happened to hit the off switch again, which allowed Kirumi to catch her breath, straighten out, and dust off her skirt. “Have you taken ill?”

Juices ran freely down her thighs, slicking up her legs and making her feel like such a filthy girl. Beneath the skirt, though, it was invisible. As long as Kirumi didn’t break, and didn’t allow a sign of true weakness through, Sonia probably wouldn’t figure out what was going on.

_Hopefully._

“Please do not concern yourself with me,” Kirumi recovered. “I am planning on taking a short break soon.”

There would be little choice. Especially if the crashing waves of pleasure would come back, and wrack Kirumi’s body, she would have to sit down for a while, or collapse into a writhing, lewd pile.

Sonia gave a pure, kind smile. “That would be for the best! It’s no understatement to say that the entire island relies on you, now. Taking on that much responsibility is a noble effort, but it’s important to take personal time when you can!”

It could have been Sonia’s experience as a princess, Kirumi’s excitement or exhaustion, or some mix of both. The simple fact was that the princess, normally such an open book, was now closed off tight. Kirumi’s ability to read people was strong. To discern and decrypt what her Master truly wanted from her was a critical skill. She simply nodded.

Kirumi couldn’t allow herself to show any weakness, or panic.

Sonia took the opportunity to start fiddling with the remote again. She didn’t turn it all the way up. Leaving it on the weakest setting, occasionally thumbing the dial back and forth as she spoke. In Kirumi’s weakened state, it took considerable effor to maintain her composure and focus.

She knew there was no way for the Ultimate Princess to know just how slick her bare thighs had become, but that thought buzzed constantly in the back of her mind, matching the pace of the tiny pink egg.

“Still, I wonder as to the purpose of this remote control. A controller without something to control is like a princess with no nation to rule! How vexing… Maybe this is some kind of test? On my honor as nobility, I can’t give up now! I will not rest until I have solved this riddle!”

 _It’s certainly a test. One that_ I _cannot endure forever. Despite it all, I’m a woman, and if I keep feeling this good… Nnngh._

_Please just return that accursed thing, or hand it over, or-_

Sonia, in her energetic hysterics, thumbed the remote dial all the way over. It was impossible to tell if it was an accidental action, or an all-too-intentional one, but that hardly mattered. Kirumi felt another jolt run up through her spine, down through her legs, and right through her core. One that was getting harder and harder to play off as mere exhaustion.

At this point, even if she had been allowed to wear panties, they’d be just as hopelessly soaked as her thighs were now.

By the time Sonia turned the device back down, it was too late. Her long skirt worked wonders for hiding her second climax- even the trembling of her legs was more or less impossible to see- and she was slightly more ready this time.

Slightly. She could still feel the heat welling up in her cheeks, let alone elsewhere, and the increased heaviness of her breathing. There were some things, try as she might, that she simply could not regulate. Such as Sonia’s control of that remote…

“Are you sure you’re okay, Kirumi? I know you won’t listen, but you really should get some rest! After all, tonight is going to be awfully busy, and we do rely on you so much.”

“Of course, Mistress. You shouldn’t concern yourself for my sake- a short rest will do me well, and I have no pressing matters to attend to just yet.”

It was a good thing Sonia turned to leave when she did. A shiver ran down her spine, the tension of nearly being found out coming to a similar head as the waves of pleasure had. Without that tension holding her together, it was a lot harder to maintain that perfect, stoic image.

If anyone saw the way she slumped down on a nearby bench, they’d still find it overly dignified and proper. It was still considerably less dignified than Kirumi’s usual, though, and in her eyes, she already looked like an irredeemable wreck. Of course, she had knowledge of her predicament no one else did, and so far, her dignity was safe. Anyone who noticed anything had already downplayed the truth to mere exhaustion, which was itself an unacceptable notion, but far preferable to anyone putting two and two together.

At least, anyone other than Celeste, and potentially Sonia.

Sonia, in particular, was a knowledgeable woman. Although her room was usually immaculate, there were some things she was simply not used to doing. Kirumi was more than happy to assist. In doing so, it was impossible not to learn certain details about a person.

It isn’t a maid’s duty not to know, but simply not to tell.

As soon as Sonia left the area, the reprieve ended. That hellish pleasure-discomfort returned, the anticipation building within her like she was a well-trained dog. Soft buzzing filled her ears in the absence of other, louder noises. Kirumi could pretend as though she’d had enough time to recover, but that would be inaccurate. Her resistance to such sensation was limited at best, and was deeply overextended.

She’d just become more and more sensitive to it with every passing moment. Sonia may not have been aware as to who the remote was tormenting, but she absolutely, without question, knew what she was doing.

Any time she got used to the low-level buzzing, it would suddenly spike up. Challenging her to remain still and quiet until even Kirumi thought it nearly impossible, before dying down to nothing. Each time it did that, Kirumi had increasingly little time to catch her breath before the cycle started again. It felt like there was a winding spring in her body, being twisted and twisted, building pressure and tension.

Kirumi was sure Sonia was well outside of visual range, so even if she had somehow figured it out, she was doing all of this blindly, with nothing but experience as a guide.

Every time Kirumi felt close to reaching that third climax, it was snatched out from under her. The moment she left that hard-earned edge, it kicked right back on again. Not enough to make up for lost time, but enough to stop the spring from unwinding. Enough to keep Kirumi from relaxing, even a little.

She’d just about gotten used to the seemingly endless cycle of buildup, when the latest cycle jolted on, full-bore. Kirumi was helplessly defenseless against this sudden assault, and in seconds, her body was wracked by the most shamelessly powerful orgasm she’d felt yet.

With no resistance left, Kirumi could hardly stifle her moaning, biting down on her lip and doubling over in an attempt to maintain some small shred of stoic dignity.

It didn’t work. Where Celeste’s efforts broke against Kirumi’s walls of pride and endurance, Sonia utterly and effectively obliterated her in a single strike.

The world was shaking, though Kirumi knew it was just her trembling body trying to cope with the mind-numbing rush of pleasure. Her thighs were a lost cause, and only her dress served to keep her lewd image distant from the likes of Miu.

Thankfully, it was enough.

There was no one around to see what had just happened.

Kirumi still took some time to recollect herself and recover enough strength to get up. Sonia mercifully allowed it, leaving the vibrator off by chance. Kirumi stood, dusted herself off, and swore to pretend that this never happened, taking a deep breath to steady herself and set upon all the work she’d let get ahead of her. Thankfully, it seemed as though Sonia had given up the search, at least for some time.

Her endurance trial was over.

At least until sunset, with the festival well underway and drinks and feelings flying freely through the air.

Although she’d had plenty of time to right herself and calm down, Kirumi’s resistance was still well and truly broken. Even the slightest buzzing of that pink egg, particularly when surrounded, could be acutely and mercilessly felt on any setting. Somewhere between the last rays of sunlight fading into the night and the end of the festival, even she lost count of the number of times she felt another wave of pleasure, another jolt up her spine, another close call of nearly being found out.

Another fake cough, or slight stumble, each time. Even once implying that her tolerance for alcohol was so low that a single shot was enough to make her tipsy, all to cover the truth.

Her tolerance was a lot higher than she let on, and she hadn’t been drinking at all. After all, she was on duty. Unless someone ordered it, or she had a moment to herself, she simply wouldn’t partake.

Then again, it was significantly worse to admit what was truly happening. By her estimate she’d been brought to **seven or eight** orgasms before it was all said and done.

Upwards of **eleven** if she counted those before the Festival began.

Each wave of pleasure further sapped her strength and willpower, weathering down Kirumi’s resistance.

Her eyes were heavily dilated, she was hypersensitive to both light and noise, her head pounded worse than it would from any actual drinking she'd abstained from . She felt herself twitch, even though a lot of her muscles had just gone slack and were going to stay that way.

As much as she hated to admit it, even the Ultimate Maid needed a chance to recharge. Her spotless and ancient work ethic mandated some sort of break, even if it was normally only an hour each year or so. Normally, enough could be gleaned from down-time, from not using every ounce of her considerable power, to not need anything resembling a vacation.

If anything, this place was already a paradise for the Ultimates.

When she went a day with a vibrator instead of panties, Kirumi’s careful mental and physical balance was thrown. Everyone was right. Once Kirumi exhausted herself, she wouldn’t be any help to anyone until she could rest up, even if she was exceptionally proficient at returning to service as quickly as possible. She was sure the others would object to the idea that she could be ready to return to service in a mere couple of hours.

In all honesty, she wasn’t even sure what she would do with that much time.

 _Maybe_ not _cum my brains out so much I lose feeling in my limbs._

For the first time in a long time, Kirumi chuckled to herself. The risk of someone finding out what she’d went through turned into a form of absurdist comedy, in her mind. Some would even likely take fright in her endurance. She’d never allowed herself such considerations before, but she supposed any future partner would have quite the challenge keeping up with her, especially in certain ways.

Then again, she’d never allowed herself to consider this kind of order before. Why now? Was it some fondness for Celeste? A lack of challenging orders from her many Masters driving her to take it on? Some innate desire she’d not realized she had?

At least the others would be happy to see her take a break, however short it may be.

For now, there was laundry to do.

The others would appreciate fresh, warm clothes after the night’s revelry.

Kirumi would appreciate the chance at privacy, absorbed in a simple, easy, repetitive task. It was like meditation- a soothing way to wrap up such a busy, taxing day.

 

* * *

 

Maki Harukawa quietly drew her cabin door closed, accompanied only by the soft click of the locking mechanism.

It was a small sound, nothing like the booming fireworks display she’d attended.

Nor anything like the loud boasting of the man she’d attended it with. Kaito Momota, “Luminary of the Stars”.

She’d heard that title almost as many times as she heard the deep, chest-rattling boom of colorful gunpowder tonight, and at similar volumes. At this point, it was ingrained in her mind. She’d memorized it, like many other details.

It wasn’t anything like that, though. In fact, thinking of him in that light was unsettling, more deeply so with every passing day. She wasn’t dutifully memorizing those aspects as though it were a task to complete, or anything. Don’t get the wrong idea. Little by little though, they’d invaded her mind on their own and taken up residence, without her even noticing at first.

Now, it was all she could think about.

Kaito. The stubborn idiot who only got more insistent with each failed attempt to be Maki’s ‘friend’. The carefree, laid-back, stargazing idiot who took everything head-on at face value, and still somehow made it out okay thanks to a mix of dumb luck and unexpected wisdom. The one who wouldn’t stop chasing his dreams for anything as small as “probability” or “common sense” or “reason”.

The big, dumb space idiot who left his jacket draped across Maki’s chair, not that he ever wore the thing properly in the first place. If it was anyone else, she’d have expected this to be an intentional ploy, to draw her out again.

To get her to emerge from hiding, to force her into making the first move. A threat, a trap, something dangerous.

Coming from Kaito, it was almost certainly an honest mistake. He wasn’t the type to think that many steps ahead. No, he would be firmly locked on the current task, all consequences be damned, until it was done. On top of that… for all of his insistence, he wouldn’t actually try to force someone to do something they didn’t want to do. Convince them to give something a try, sure, but nothing underhanded like this.

Maki sighed, deeply. Why did she know so much about him? Why was she so confident in her assessment? Why was she so easily disarmed by him? How was it that he could make her forget, even if just for tiny moments… everything?

Maki’s head swam as she reached out for Kaito’s jacket. She didn’t even consciously know what she was going to do with it. Maki was just acting on the nervous habit to clean and tidy things up. For a brief moment, Maki was on autopilot- memories of her past welling up, of the meticulous care she sometimes had to take. Leaving no traces was ingrained in her due to the orphanage’s strict rules.

She could have easily spent the majority of the night like that, if she didn’t pick up on something else.

A subtle presence, in the same room as her. Normally, something like that would make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and send her into an automatic, defensive response.

This one was calming and pleasant. It was merely the scent of another person. Specifically, that of Kaito. One that she’d gotten so comfortable and familiar with that she could envision him right there.

That stupid idiot, with his stupid jacket.

His stupid choice in hygiene products Maki had somehow grown to like, and associate with him. His stupid way of pestering her until she gave in, only to end up enjoying herself on this stupid, death-trap island. His stupid broad chest, and prideful boasting, and determination. The way her annoyance was cute to him, and carried no bite.

The way that he could get her to believe anything, even if only for a moment, that he could touch the stars, or that she could make amends with the past, a past he didn’t know anything about.

He never needed to, and that was the most frustrating part. How had she let a man like that win her heart? How had she let anyone steal that most prized treasure, the one thing she was supposed to guard at all costs?

How had that idiot managed to befriend her- no, more than that- in such a short time?

Maki let out another sigh- but it wasn’t purely of exasperation. Her breath felt warm- come to think of it, so did her cheeks, and… other places. Thinking about it only made it worse, but so did the only other thing on her mind. No amount of breathing exercises could put a dent in the tension she’d racked up over the course of so many days, and trying only drew attention to just how ragged and hot her breathing had become.

Clutching his jacket so tightly, it was trivial to imagine him, and impossible not to think of him. Her body made the message all too clear to her addled mind- she’d put this off for too long, and needed it, now. Maki was powerless to resist- and after doing just that for so long, she had no desire to, either.

Her choice in panties was entirely utilitarian- side-tie, as they were quick enough to don and didn’t restrict her range of motion. By the time Maki’s free hand pulled the bowstring and allowed them to fall to the ground, they- and her thighs- were already soaked through with her arousal.

Maki had never considered herself lewd, or even particularly driven by libido, though that was partially due to learning to suppress such desires rather than simply being her natural state. She definitely didn’t do this kind of thing often, though it wasn’t the first- and, she’d never done much experimentation, either. Before, her more esoteric needs had been little more than a hindrance. Something to simply deal with, and get over.

_Now, though…_

It wasn’t so much that the opportunity was new, even if it was rare- she’d simply never had any reason to do so before. The most efficient path had always been the easiest and best choice. Even when she had ample time and privacy, it was less about the sensation, and more about getting it over with.

This time, the sensation threatened to completely wash away what little focus she had left, before she’d even truly started.

Her hand timidly hovered over her most private place, one already quivering and drenched thoroughly with arousal. The slightest brush sent a shiver up her spine, a tremble through her fingertips- a motion that started the cycle anew.

Maki couldn’t take it any longer.

Completely overwhelmed by thoughts, emotions, and sensations, she reflexively dug into herself- first one digit, then another, with a deep hunger so unlike her normal self. She knew her most sensitive areas well enough to exploit them. Not that they needed much coaxing.

Would he hit the same spots?

Normally, such an indecent thought wouldn’t even come near Maki’s mind, let alone enter on its own.

As she was now, though, it was exactly enough to push her clear over the edge. Her entire body tensed and trembled, a wail of pleasure thankfully silenced by the soundproofed walls of her cabin. Her world rocked, her vision blurred, and her breath and energy left her.

The heat, however, did not. She still felt like she was melting from the inside out, feverishly burning. Her fingers kept moving, and her mind clung to the cloudy fantasies it had dreamed up subconsciously. Some tiny shred of practical cognizance remained, only enough to wonder if the cabins had been waterproofed as well, before it too faded into the warm, comfortable, Kaito-scented pleasure.

If Maki kept going, she’d soon find out the hard way. She often found herself slick to the thighs from mere arousal alone, and this was far more than that- one of the strongest, most mind-numbingly pleasurable climaxes she’d ever experienced. Her thighs, her hand, the jacket, and the floor were now thoroughly soaked in Maki, with only a single orgasm.

She didn’t notice. Another was quickly approaching, and it was all she could do to brace for it. Maki’s chest heaved as her arms fell limply by her sides, finally and totally exhausted.

The intense, unyielding heat had finally went with the last of her strength, leaving only a soft, hazy warmth. She gasped for the air her burning muscles needed, as though she’d just completed a marathon, though even that sensation was muted by the fog of pleasure still reverberating through her mind.

Not that “marathon” was entirely inaccurate. Maki certainly wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been at this, or how many times she’d… completed, her task. Her legs weren’t ready to support her weight just yet, not that she particularly wanted to get up yet. Basking in the residual feeling was something she’d never really experienced, either, and it was a nice change of pace.

Eventually, the fog started to lift from Maki’s mind, as her breathing slowed and her strength returned. Reality came back into focus as the warm buzz faded- just how long had it been, now? Maki wasn’t even exactly sure how many times she’d just been to the metaphorical moon and back.

She was sure of one thing, though. Realization quickly doused the last remaining embers of her afterglow. Kaito’s jacket was now well and truly soaked in… _her_ , for lack of a better term.

It definitely couldn’t be returned in such a state.

Maki took a deep breath. Pondering on this troublesome situation was inherently pointless anymore. All she could do was turn to a more productive thought.

How would she get out of this with the tattered shreds of her dignity intact?

_Kirumi._

The flawless silver-haired maid was the answer. In fact, Kirumi would probably be the only one who could help now, at this hour. All Maki would need to do is go visit the Ultimate Maid… and absolutely no one else. No one could know about this.

Especially not that space idiot. She’d never live it down.

Kirumi. She had to see Kirumi. And no one else.

As soon as her legs worked again, anyway.

For all the drunken revelry going on, the hotels were too quiet.

The only people in their rooms were either passing out from various levels of poisoning, or trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Maki could relate to that much, at least.

Enough to employ stealth. Hugging walls, and checking for obstacles at every turn. She took a bit to get over to Kirumi’s cabin, only to discover she wasn’t there. Of course. She wasn’t the type to get drunk, even if somebody ordered it.

She wasn’t a _fucking degenerate_ , either. So Kirumi had no business in her cabin yet.

Maki evaluated her options, biting on her red thumbnail. On the hand that wasn’t carrying that stupid purple jacket. After taking some time to calm down, she set out, again trying to remain concealed. Especially from bothersome and nosy people, who absolutely infested this island.

She found Kirumi babysitting a dozen humming washers and dryers.

Maki’s best attempts to move in concealment were always pointless against Kirumi, as a point of pride. The Ultimate Maid gave her a polite bow, gloved hands clasped tightly together. “Good evening, Mistress Harukawa.”

“I’ve told you before, Maki is fine.”

“Of course, Mistress Harukawa. Is there anything I can help you with tonight?”

Maki considered confessing her sins.

A maid was a ‘professional stranger’ in a way, one of those jobs that brought out a candid impulse. Yet, there was no way Maki could do that, ever. She just had to keep things nice and vague.

Maki held up the jacket, so that the galactic interior was clearly visible. Its bright colors were vibrant even at night, like a kid putting up stickers above his bed to remind himself of space, and just as childish. “That guy left something lying around. Thoughtless as usual. Could you clean it up and get it back to him quietly?”

“Quietly? As in, return it without mentioning anything?” Kirumi accepted the jacket, and found a place for it in one of the washing machines. As it turned out, purple was not an unpopular color among the Ultimates. There was a full load of purples all ready to go.

“It’d be best if he never even knew it was gone.” Maki pouted, puffing out her cheeks. “For everyone involved.”

There was a story there, but Kirumi knew better than to pry. Maki wasn’t the most forthcoming girl in the first place, and if she didn’t want to open up, sticking one’s hand into the steel trap would only have predictable results.

Kirumi could relate.

“You sound like you’ve had quite a long day, Maki. You should try to get some rest.” Kirumi gave the only advice she could, the generic default. If nothing else, everyone was staying up late for the Festival, and a little extra rest never hurt.

It might even give her an edge tomorrow, to be the only one sharp, on the ball. Capable of reacting to any situation.

“That goes triple for you. You’ve done way more than I, or anyone else, today. Ultimate Maid or not, you deserve a break.” Even Maki knew she’d never agree to such terms, but-

“You are not the first person to tell me that today, but a short breather wouldn’t hurt.” The ghost of a smile visited her lips, which curved upwards. Not in something as vulgar as a wide, open smile, like that idiot did, but for Kirumi, it was a beautiful display of her feelings.

The kind of thing a stunted girl like Maki knew she wouldn’t be able to manage.

“I suspect the majority of our classmates would still be asleep, or otherwise wishing to remain… undisturbed. Perhaps it is for the best.”

Just what was the world coming to?

“If you’re agreeing with me, that means today really was a long one, huh? In any case, I think I’m going to skip out on any further debauchery.” Maki brushed a lock of black hair back out from her red eyes, which didn’t glow with their usual razor intensity. “Oh, and thanks.”

Kirumi merely bowed. “You needn’t burden yourself with that. This is quite a relaxing task, and I will certainly be done and asleep long before… well, before many others choose to do the same. Rest well.”

The two girls parted, each idly wondering what had the other in such high spirits. Maki being open, even talkative. Even if to a limited degree. Kirumi accepting a suggestion to rest. Even smiling, however hidden and faint it had been.

What could have possibly happened? Surely, it couldn’t have been…

“No way, it’s not possible. ” Each thought that about the other. As wild as the festival night was, there was no way a woman like _her_ would get caught up in the frenetic debauchery.

Thus passed the night of the Ultimate Festival.

It had been a stressful day, but the night that followed was peaceful.

A moment of rest, before the storm that was Maki’s life started up again.

While she didn’t know it at the time, it was her last day where she could rest easy. Tomorrow would cause a revelation she couldn’t allow.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, the stars were beautiful.


	14. 2-x. To Survive I [Recovered Document]

**Room Security Recording**  
**Surveillance of █████ ████████, the Ultimate ███████**  
**November 2nd, 2026, Nighttime**

**Monokuma:** Ahem. Killing Game Executive Committee announcement. Hear ye, hear ye!  
**Monokuma:** It’s 10PM. Therefore, **nighttime** is now in effect. Certain areas are now locked.  
**Monokuma:** Sleep tight, my lovelies!~  
**Monokuma:** Oh, and a special note for all students. I hope those _heartfelt_   _messages_ from home cured some of your homesickness.  
**Monokuma:** As well as your soft hearts towards killing!  
**Monokuma:** _Upupupupu._  
**Monokuma: Ahahahaha!**

_[Room is empty for five minutes, before the door unlocks, and █████ ████████ enters. She turns to address somebody off-camera in the hallway.]_

█████ ████████: Yeah. Good night.  
█████ ████████: Hey, Shuichi.  
█████ ████████: Whatever’s on that dumb video… try not to let it get to you, alright?  
█████ ████████: Literally whatever Monokuma shows us can’t be trusted. Alright? Right.  
█████ ████████: See you tomorrow morning.  
█████ ████████: It’s a promise.

_[Subject closes her door, locks it, and triple checks the lock before collapsing onto her bed, fully clothed.]_

█████ ████████: Another day down, and nobody’s died, huh. I guess that means I win.  
█████ ████████: Although that bastard isn’t gonna sit still for that. These Monopad things prove that…  
█████ ████████: Oh, right.

_[Subject grabs a pillow, faces the security camera, but then tosses the pillow aside.]_

█████ ████████: It’s not gonna work, you monster!  
█████ ████████: It doesn’t matter who you really are, or what you show to us. We won’t kill anyone!  
█████ ████████: I believe in everyone here! We’re going to fight you, it's not going to be like the others!  
█████ ████████: And everyone watching at home, all you… little wannabe Hunters? Just you wait. We’ll show you the power of the Ultimates.  
█████ ████████: **"Mankind deserves damnation"?!** That's a bunch of crap, too!  
█████ ████████: Mister Mastermind, we’re gonna take you down long before the Future Foundation can even get here.  
█████ ████████: Mark my words!

_[Subject tries to sleep, but can’t, and finally flips on her Monopad and begins watching her motive video.]_

█████ ████████: Mom… Dad...

█████ ████████: Why the hell did we run away?

█████ ████████: We really didn't know anything.


	15. 2-5a. The Case of the Sordid Stew I (Hajime)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to play along in your mind, if you like. Time for the equivalent of that one episode of an anime where the entire style just shifts.

The low, flickering torchlight and rock-hewn cave walls closed in all around Hajime Hinata, International Man of Mystery.

The air was stagnant, growing warm from the press of bodies packed in. As well as from the Exisals standing like statues and guards in the corners of the chamber. Spectators were in shadow, sitting above the arena in rings. Long shadows set up dark, moody conditions for the trial.

Or maybe Hajime just felt that way, with all eyes on him.

Eighty-eight, in fact. As many as were physically possible.

All wondering why he’d been stupid enough to take this role.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Kaito proclaimed from his high seat. Front and center, looking down on the proceedings. He even had some black judge robes, care of Tsumugi. Which combined with his spiky plum-purple hair to ensure he looked absolutely fucking ridiculous. His voice echoed through the chamber a dozen times. “Hajime! Do you have what you need? Is your team ready?”

_You know for a fact we’re not ready. But will that even matter?_

Hajime shuffled some papers on the table laid out before him, adjusted his green necktie, and let out a really fake cough. Beside him, his assistant patted him on the shoulder. Nagito could stand to wipe that pitying look off his face, especially since he got roped into this crazy job too! “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be here soon. I think we can start, Hajime.”

“What exactly _is_ your big plan for this whole thing, Nagito? If we don’t come up with something good, we’re sunk…”

“Tch.” Looming to the other side of Nagito at the table, the larger Byakuya, in a white suit as ever to contrast with his evil half, folded his arms over his ponderous bulk, He declared, without a shred of Hajime’s hesitation, “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

“Good answer! Prosecutor Kirumi, ready for launch?”

“The prosecution is, of course, completely prepared,” Kirumi confirmed, standing opposite Hajime at the other long table. “I will do everything in my power to meet Everyone’s expectations.” She reached down, grabbing the edges of her long skirt, and performed a picture-perfect curtsey. Beside her, Shuichi pulled his hat down. Possibly out of shame for supporting a false prosecution, or possibly from the shutter flash indicating Mahiru was active out there in the stands. At the end of their table, arms folded impassively as a mirror to his fatter self, thin-mint brand Evil Byakuya looked down his nose at his opposition.

Hajime wasn’t scared.

He wasn’t!

“Sorry, Kirumi. I had to follow my heart on this one,” Nagito said across the table, annoyingly casual in the face of stress, as per usual.

“Think nothing of it, Nagito,” Kirumi replied, waving away his concern. “I don’t intend to hold back, of course, but you must do as you will. Just as I will destroy your defense with flawless, airtight logic, of course.”

Kirumi’s voice held not one note of nervousness or hesitation, and was instead smooth, level, and calm. Indicating, as usual, she was going to go after this task with single minded determination. She was ruthlessly competent and determined at everything.

_I guess we should be grateful we get a trial at all. Kaede really went to bat for us. Even though we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye._

“Okay. We’ve been over this before, but for the benefit of the peanut gallery.” Kaito cleared his throat. “We’re gonna do this right. A proper trial, followed by a proper punishment.” Great. Nice and impartial there, Literally-The-Judge. Oh well, who else could fill that high chair but the supposed Captain? “The Council here will vote on whether you’re innocent or not, Teruteru. They’re basically the jury. Got it?”

There sat Junko, Gundham, and Kaede. Arranged in front of, and below, Kaito. Just to emphasize who was really important, right? The bench they sat at still looked down on the court, facing Teruteru’s witness stand and forcing the pudgy chef to look up, beady eyes full of panic. Both the prosecution and the defense, looking across the stone floor at each other, had to look sideways to see either party, but could address each other, and exchange antagonistic looks, quite easily.

Sitting aside, with a small oil lamp he found somewhere upon a student desk, Kiyo was recording every word anyone said, of course. “ _Kukuku._ Yet another fascinating tragic-comedy of humanity is about to play out before my very eyes.”

He was probably eyeing up the girls, too, that creep.

_Speaking of creeps. Teruteru, please just be cool-_

“I just want to register now that I did nothing wrong on that particular day,” Teruteru squealed, sweating like a pig he’d normally be cooking. “This court is totally illegal and I like, refuse to acknowledge it.” He was flanked on either side by Security officers guarding the exit, and making sure Teruteru didn’t run off.

Tenko to one side, and to the other, Mukuro.

Both made it clear what would happen to Teruteru if he tried to run for a third time.

“Save the excuses, that’s what we got Hajime here for,” Kaito said. “Okay. Everyone’s ready, so let’s do this. Opening remarks! Prosecution, you’re up first.”

Kirumi stepped forward, into the middle of the makeshift courthouse. Beneath the helpful glare of a spotlight provided by one of the Exisals. She looked around, like a radar scanning for targets. The one eye visible from around her long, nearly-silver pea-green bang barely blinked.

She took a rather impressive-looking deep breath.

_Not just nearly the tallest, huh…_

Her voice was loud, strong, and commanding, while also remaining pitch-perfect and in-control. Of freaking course.

“As the **Ultimate Chef, Teruteru Hanamura** is in a unique position of power. The confidence he exercises with Everyone is even greater than mine. I have always endeavored to conduct myself in the most conscientious and professional of ways, mindful of the trust vested in me by Everyone. Teruteru Hanamura has _not_.

The **overwhelming evidence** can only indicate the conclusion that the prosecution, relying on the airtight deductions of the **Ultimate Detective, Shuichi Saihara,** has reached. That Teruteru Hanamura deliberately put something in his World-Class Stew yesterday, which caused… **The Incident.** About which many of us have agreed to never speak in detail for as long as we live. The shame, the humiliation, the betrayal. In any society, there must be a high price for such crimes, especially of a sexual nature.

We will now proceed to demonstrate beyond any reasonable doubt that Teruteru deserves not leniency, but the sternest of punishment that the Council sees fit to hand down. For Everyone’s sake.”

Although they weren’t supposed to, many of the spectators were applauding by the time Kirumi finished.

Hajime felt the spotlight on him now, and he was already sweating.

“You’re up,” Nagito prompted. “C’mon. Just read off the prepared remarks Byakuya wrote up, and you’ll be fine.”

When Hajime looked at the paper, though, the words danced around and were difficult to read. In spite of the bright light shone on the defense’s table, he couldn’t quite pin down the neatly-written characters before him. Not while his head was swimming and his heart thundered.

_Forget this._

Hajime crumpled up the paper, tossing it aside.

_“Teruteru is a lecherous bastard!”_

That carried to all corners of the room, and silenced everyone.

“He’s a piece of crap, whose redeeming qualities I can count with two fingers.”

“I-Is it too late for me to request a new lawyer-” Teruteru asked timidly, before Hajime cut him off.

“However. There are two points critical to understanding this case, and why my client is completely innocent. Of this, and only this.” Hajime raised a finger. “ **First!** Moms are excluded from his ‘strike zone’, while literally nothing, and nobody, else is. Call it being open minded and inclusive. Call it being a degenerate. It’s whatever. However, it is proof that even Teruteru has some principles that he will not violate.

 **Second** , and most importantly. He takes such **pride in his work as the Ultimate Cook** \- _shut up, Teruteru, it’s listed that way in your file_ \- that there is no way in the world that he would spike his food with anything. I’ll say it louder for those in the back row! This is the one line he wouldn’t cross! Even if his own life depended on it! I believe that with all of my heart.

I talk a lot of shit about Teruteru, and plan to continue doing so for the rest of his natural life. Let’s face it, it can’t be that much longer. However, I believe in Teruteru as a friend, and as a man. The ‘evidence’ is more shaky than Kirumi would lead you to believe.

She’s hiding something. I’m going to knock down all the lies, and clear up all mysteries. In fact, I’m going to expose the **true culprit** by the time this trial is over!”

That kicked up quite the stir. Murmurs and discussion filled the gallery.

“It is well to be bold,” Byakuya remarked from the defense table. Over Nagito’s head. “However, our first priority must be casting as much doubt as possible on the conviction. We can worry about secondary concerns later.”

Hajime nodded. "R-Right. I got ahead of myself there. Hopefully this broke up some of the ‘he obviously did it’ people. Maybe.”

“Most people have already made up their minds before a trial begins,” Nagito sighed, rubbing a hand through that fluffy white cloud that passed for his hair. “Personal experience. You’ve just got to roll with it, and break the prosecution’s witnesses with your skillful **cross-examination**.”

_When have you had experience with criminal trials, Nagito?_

“Cross examination?” Hajime echoed. “Oh, wait. I’ve seen police procedurals, I… think I know what that’s about.”

Byakuya nodded. “Kirumi will call the first witness, and their testimony will form the basis for her argument against Teruteru. However, once she’s finished, we will receive an opportunity to reveal the contradictions. Behold.”

**Witness Testimony**

**Kirumi**

**Shuichi**

“Witness, please state your name and talent for the court.”

“I’m Shuichi Saihara. People call me… no. I _am_ the **Ultimate Detective**. Er, one of two now.”

“Please explain the basics of this case, for Everyone’s sake.”

“Um, very well. Yesterday, the so-called **Ultimate Party** culminated in Teruteru’s **World-Class Stew** for dinner. It was a legendary party dish the world over. It didn’t disappoint… at first. However, there was a dark side to this stew, one that caused… The Incident you alluded to earlier.”

“You’re certain that the stew was the direct cause of The Incident?”

“Yes. Anybody who ate the stew, which is most of the island, was affected. Anybody who didn’t, wasn’t. I’ve also completed a **chemical examination** of the stew, which conclusively demonstrates that a powerful aphrodisiac was added.”

“Your Honor, we would like to present our first piece of decisive evidence; the results of the analysis from Shuichi’s Ultimate Lab.”

 **> Chemical Analysis** added to Evidence!

“Additionally, it matches completely with trace amounts of powder residue in this **suspicious bottle** we found discarded in the waste bin of Teruteru’s lab’s kitchen.”

 **> Bottle of Aphrodisiac** added to Evidence!

“Were you able to draw any _useful_ fingerprints from this bottle, sir?”

“ We drew… a single set of useful fingerprints. Teruteru’s.”

 **> Fingerprint Report** added to Evidence!

“With this, unfortunately, there **can’t be any doubt** that Teruteru added this to his own stew, and is thus guilty. That’s why I’m appearing for the prosecution today, and working with them.”

“Thank you for your time, Shuichi. I believe this constitutes ‘overwhelming evidence’.”

Hajime had sure been listening, but all he heard was bad things. He sweatdropped. “God damnit.”

“Having second thoughts?” Nagito murmured into his ear, grinning darkly. “It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

No, it totally was.

Once Hajime committed his word to an idiot to do something stupid, then come hell or high water, he was gonna do it. It was just the Code. It was one of his few flaws, being too loyal. “It’s just, that sounded pretty bad for us. In fact, they’ve already stacked enough evidence to-”

 **“Ahem.** Sorry to get in before your cross-examination, Hajime.” Junko now had all eyes in the courtroom firmly on her. Which was what she loved more than anything in the world. “But I’ve heard more than enough.”

“More than… no way.”

“The **Jury System** they’ve set up…” Byakuya clenched a meaty fist. “It allows for a juror to register their vote at any time, once they are satisfied with the preponderance of evidence.”

“Wait, so she’s going to-”

Kaede raised her hand. “Junko, hang on-”

Junko tapped her Hope Pad sitting on the table before her. A huge, solid black holographic banner unfurled behind her head. “ **Black**. That’s Guilty, of course.”

Teruteru was in tears by this point, and clinging to Nagito, against protests for him to stop. _“J-J-J-Junko?! Of all people, Ah thought w-we was friends!”_

“Well, I just can’t help it, bae. I love justice so damn much,” She explained, her voice flat and deadpan as she examined her nails. Before she flashed a winning smile and a peace sign. “Sorry. I’m totes convinced.”

“An excellent, swift decision,” Evil Byakuya smirked from the prosecution’s table, pushing up his glasses in satisfaction. “Now, we just need the other two to fall into line, and I will have the victory which is a foregone conclusion for the Togami family. The _real_ Togami family, that is, and not some imposter.”

“Just so, Master Togami,” Kirumi acknowledged with a gracious, elegant bow to the jury.

_Nngh. Junko, you’re just doing whatever the hell you want. As usual. And you don’t care whatever consequences come of it for others._

“That’s way too reckless,” Kaede scolded out loud for Hajime. As usual, her motherly admonishment did nothing to Junko. It didn’t even annoy the Ultimate Fashionista. “... Hajime, come on! It’s time for your cross examination, right?”

“That’s right!” Kaito bellowed. “Get a move on, Hajime. We don’t have all day.”

_Man, who put these jokers in charge? Oh, right. We had a vote._

_Thanks again though, Kaede. You might be the reason we even get a chance to fight back. Gundham, I know we’ve had our differences, but at least hear us out first._

Indeed, the Ultimate Animal Breeder was sitting impassive, having barely said a word all throughout the process. Sitting, judging. Based on whatever insane thought process ran through his head. At least it was something.

“Don’t hold back, Hajime,” Nagito said. “Just remember. Right now, he’s not your buddy Shuichi. Who everyone, save a few hat-wearing weirdos, likes. He’s the prosecution’s witness. No, more than that, he is the prosecution. You’ve gotta go after him. Break those obvious, hopeless weak spots in his testimony, and show the way towards Teruteru’s hopeful future.”

“Right!”

_Obvious, huh? Care to trade places?_

** Cross Examination **  


**Hajime**  


**Shuichi**

“I’m Shuichi Saihara. People call me… no. I _am_ the **Ultimate Detective**. Er, one of two now-”

**“Hold it!”**

Shuichi jumped. “Ah! Er, i-is something wrong, Hajime?”

“Satisfy my curiosity, Shuichi.” Hajime whapped some papers in his hand to make himself seem more lawyerly. For some reason, Chiaki up in the stands looked really happy with that. “Kyouko is the other Ultimate Detective, right?”

“Correct.”

“So if this is such an airtight case against Teruteru, why isn’t she on the side of the prosecution as well? In fact, where exactly is she right now?”

“T-That’s…”

_**“OBJECTION!”** _

Kirumi cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Hajime, but I must object to this line of questioning. As long as the walls of mind and body remain, then two people cannot become one. How is Shuichi conceivably to know the inner workings of Mistress Kirigiri’s mind, or her motives?”

“Nngh!”

Kaito nodded. “Yeah, what is this, Hajime?! I’ve seen plenty of cop shows too, and this kinda mushy guff won’t fly!”

_Is Law and Order seriously going to be the basis of our ‘legal system’?_

“Find a real question to ask, on the double!”

“Understood,” Hajime sighed. He should have known that, of all witnesses, Shuichi was the one who was going to be protected extra well. Both by the prosecution, and of course, the judge himself. Even Kaede wasn’t looking too happy. “Sorry, Shuichi. Please continue.”

“Um, very well. Yesterday, the so-called Ultimate Party culminated in Teruteru’s **World-Class Stew** for dinner. It was a legendary party dish the world over. It didn’t disappoint… at first. However, there was a dark side to this stew, one that caused… The Incident you alluded to earlier.”

“Yes. Anybody who ate the stew, which is most of the island, was affected. Anybody who didn’t, wasn’t. I’ve also completed a **chemical examination** of the stew, which conclusively demonstrates that a powerful aphrodisiac was added.”

“Additionally, it matches completely with trace amounts of powder residue in the **suspicious bottle** we found discarded in the waste bin of Teruteru’s lab’s kitchen.”

“We drew… a **single set** of useful fingerprints. Teruteru’s.”

**“Hold it!”**

All that other stuff would be pointless to press, and just aggravate Kaito even more. Shuichi looked nervous when he talked about the fingerprints, though. He even looked away, trying to hide his face. Why?

Hajime had to get results, fast. If they didn’t turn up something, then this could be both the first, and last, cross-examination before the verdict. While Kaede went out of her way to give them a chance, he clearly had no higher an opinion of Teruteru than, well, literally any woman.

Save for that all-precious mother.

“Let’s be really clear about this point, Shuichi. Teruteru’s fingerprints were the only ones you could get off the bottle?”

“W-Well, I mean, I-”

_**“OBJECTION!”** _

Kirumi coughed politely into her throat into her ruffled sleeve, eyes closed, expression severe and stern. “Hajime, what do you hope to gain by badgering the witness in such a manner?”

“Yeah!” Kaito agreed. “Shuichi told you, right?! So what’s your problem?”

“This is a _critical_ piece of evidence,” Hajime shot back. He knew trying to stare down Kirumi was impossible, so Hajime turned a glare upon Kaito. “Look, you’re the one who asked me to do this. Are you actually going to let me do my job, or is this a show trial?”

Kaito winced. “Go ahead, then. Shuichi, tell him the same thing again. Like it’ll change anything!”

“Well…” Shuichi sighed. “The idea that Teruteru’s fingerprints are the only ones on the bottle is not… entirely accurate.”

“Not entirely?” Hajime echoed. “Could you elaborate?”

The courtroom buzzed as Shuichi explained that a number of ‘incomplete sets’ had been found on the bottle. As well as another recognizable set of prints. “In addition to Teruteru’s prints, Mikan’s were also identified.”

A telltale squeal sung out from the peanut gallery. _“Eeeeek!”_

Now the crowd was really going.

“B-But does that really matter?” Shuichi asked. “I mean…”

“Yeah!” Kaito took up the cause for his ‘sidekick’ immediately. “If that mattered, Shuichi woulda said it! Is it weird that Mikan touched a medical thing?”

“That’s not, by itself, weird. However, I would like…” Hajime slammed his hands onto the desk, and quieted the murmuring in the crowd. “To amend the court record with this new information!”

"Whoa, this is sounding almost like a trial trial," Hifumi marveled from the sidelines.

Nobody else seemed to agree that this mattered, but the record was so amended.

“We drew… two complete sets of fingerprints. **Teruteru’s, and Mikan’s**.”

**“Hold it!”**

“Shuichi, why wasn’t this mentioned in your initial report?!”

Shuichi looked aside again. “It didn’t seem important? L-Like Kaito said, Mikan has touched all sorts of things at the Hospital. In fact, she’s the only ‘authorized vendor’ for controlled substances.”

“Fascists!” Miu hooted and hollered from the sidelines. Until she was silenced by a look from Bailiff Mukuro. Then, the Ultimate Inventor melted into a puddle, equal parts fear and arousal rocking her generous curves.

It _was_ admittedly hot to see how fast she folded to the slightest bit of any pressure.

Hajime cleared his throat.

“Did you decide to omit this _tiny detail_ on your own, or did _Kirumi_ tell you to keep quiet about it? If so, why?”

“Um. Well, that’s. Um.”

_**“OBJECTION!”** _

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to tell the defense everything we spoke about in private, _privileged_ communications,” Evil Togami remarked, condescension levels reaching new heights. “Nor that Shuichi was _psychic_ , too. Perhaps it’s the blue hair?”

_**“OBJECTION!”** _

Hajime looked in alarm over at Nagito, who was now pointing dramatically across the table. “If the prosecution is fixing evidence or giving witnesses a ‘script’, that sounds like it’s pretty relevant to the whole ‘trial’ thing. Just my opinion, though.”

“Grr. You.” Evil Togami clenched his fist. “You remind me too much of that bothersome hoodie-wearing guy for my liking.”

“Huh? Me?” Makoto scratched his chin. “I dunno about that…”

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn,” Nagito frowned, looking aside. “It must bother him a lot to be compared to me, too. In fact, I know that for certain, heh.”

“H-His point still stands!” Hajime yelled. “Kirumi, what’s the deal?!”

“Kirumi isn’t the one on trial here!” Kaito cut in. “Askin’ about all these other people, Hajime. If you’re just messin’ around, then it’s time for a penalty-”

Kirumi sighed. “If it will avoid further non-productive fixation on the part of the defense, then I will address this point. I mentioned to Shuichi that Mikan’s fingerprints were not likely to have a material impact on the case. After all, Mikan was not at the restaurant until dinnertime, and witnesses agree to that effect. In addition, as Shuichi said, she handles medical supplies constantly.”

It was hard to argue with that, but Hajime had to find a way. “All that’s well and good, Kirumi, but that still means you told the witness what to say, or not say!”

Kirumi’s face hardened. “Devolving into charges of conspiracy already? Is doing my job and preparing a reasonable prosecution with the facts available ‘oppressive’, too? Perhaps you want to call me a fascist as well, Hajime.”

_Little bit, yeah._

“Pointless.”

Everyone turned, at the first word Gundham had spoken in this courtroom.

“Bickering back and forth. Accusations, agendas. Human politics are so very pointless, compared to the grandeur of the universe.” Gundham proclaimed, without even bothering to look out from his seat. “Yet, the outcome is already made clear. This is a distinction without a difference, Hajime, for it leads nowhere. You have failed to wedge even a pebble free of this case. Black.”

The second black banner unfurled, behind him.

Only one member of the Council had yet to register their vote. When Kaede did, the trial would be over on the spot.

Unbidden, something Ibuki said days earlier came to Hajime’s mind.

_Pitch black! My future’s pitch black!_

Now, Hajime didn’t _think_ he was dancing on a tightrope. He was certain of it.

Luckily, Kaede wasn’t willing to cut things off at the very first witness. “Look. I won’t say whether your judgement is right or wrong,” Kaede said to Gundham, holding up her hands. “But I’m not… convinced yet. It’s way too soon for us to reach a verdict.”

Kaito shrugged. “That’s fair, I suppose. Shuichi, good job standing up to that dumbass! Really showed him your fighting spirit. That’s my sidekick for ya!”

 _“Is that something the judge should be saying?”_ Nagito murmured.

As it turned out, nobody was prepared for the next witness to be called. Almost like everyone anticipated that, yes, this would have ended by then. So, Hajime said, “I think the next witness is obvious. We need to get Mikan on the stand, and determine the complete facts of this case! Facts the prosecution deemed ‘irrelevant’... may be quite important to the defense!”

Mikan resisted the idea of being in a literal spotlight, on a stage, beneath the glare of eighty-eight other eyes. The extra-thick nurse was dragged in anyhow. She kept her head lowered, eyes closed beneath the brim of her black hat, and clasped her hands together in fervent prayer.

“A-Atua, please give me the strength to s-s-stand before the heathens… Since I don’t have any strength m-m-myself...”

_Heathens?_

_This is going to be like pulling teeth._

_Hmm. I feel bad exploiting this, but since we’re friends, and Shuichi’s on the outs with the Black Hats, maybe this will be worthwhile to pursue._

**Witness Testimony**

**Kirumi**

**Mikan**

“Witness, please state your name and talent for the court.”

“M-M-M-M-M-M….”

“Ahem.”

“Eeek! M-My name is Mikan Tsumiki! My sizes are **eighty-** ”

“Honored Witness, please regain control of yourself and give your testimony regarding this bottle of aphrodisiac.”

“I’m sorry! I just got so nervous, I said whatever… Um… Please don’t hate me.”

“Mikan, was this part of the hospital’s supply?”

“Yes. I took an **extensive inventory** of supplies when we found the hospital. H-H-Here. Sorry if my handwriting makes you want to stab out your own eyes in horror…”

 **> Hospital Inventory** added to evidence!

“So. It was stored at the hospital. Or it was, until it was **removed**.”

“Who took the bottle? For what purpose?”

“I did, to be honest. B-Because… **Angie** asked me to. She said Atua told her to look at it, and then she just put it back.”

“She replaced it without any use?”

“Angie n-never opened it, we never used it, or anything weird like that. I’m not sure why she wanted to see it. B-but Angie gets inspiration like that sometimes! If it’s the will of Atua, we have no choice but to obey! Without question.”

“Understood. Then, my final question. Did Teruteru come by the hospital recently?”

“Y-Yes, Teruteru did **visit the hospital** recently.”

“Very well. No further questions.”

Nagito shook his head. “Where do we even begin, Hajime? Surely you noticed something strange about that testimony.”

“Take your pick,” Hajime said. “There’s a number of odd things Mikan said, and didn't say. And I’ve got to press on every point, if we’re going to get any closer to the truth. Kirumi’s hiding something big, and Mikan is gonna help us blow this case wide open!”

_Hopefully. Or Kaede might lose her patience, too._

Kaito said, “Hajime, your witness! … Uh, be gentle. You know how girls are, and especially Mikan here. If you try and get rough with her, you’ve got a whole cluster of penalties waiting, care of my fist!”

Hajime smiled gently at her. “Don’t worry, we’re friends. Right, Mikan?”

"I would never be so rude as to put you on the level of pig barf like myself! Please forgive me for ever giving you the impression that I dared to think such things! I’ll take any penalty, any punishment...”

Hajime’s smile was now frozen on his face, and it didn’t reach up to his eyes. “See? We’re like peas in a pod.”

**Cross-Examination**

  
**Hajime**

**Mikan**

“M-M-M-M-M-M….”

“Eeek! M-My name is Mikan Tsumiki! My sizes are **eighty-** ”

**“Hold it!”**

“The prosecution is clearly trying to cover up evidence again. Mikan, what were you going to say before you were so rudely interrupted here?!”

The courtroom went silent.

Except for the sound of Kaito _cracking_ his knuckles, which echoed like gunshots in the cavern.

“... Kidding! I’m just kidding! M-Mikan, please proceed.”

_Joke’s on you, that information is in the student profiles anyhow._

Nagito looked so disappointed. Chiaki up there was also not pleased, although her expression never went past ‘kinda sad’ even in the worst situations.

“Well, _I_ thought it was a reasonable question,” Teruteru offered.

“I’m sorry! I just got so nervous, I said whatever… Um… Please don’t hate me.”

“Yes. I took an **extensive inventory** of supplies when we found the hospital. H-H-Here. Sorry if my handwriting makes you want to stab out your own eyes in horror…”

“So. It was stored at the hospital. Or it was, until it was **removed**.”

**“Hold it!”**

“Was that the only time it was ever taken out of drug storage, Mikan?”

“Y-Y-Y…”

“Don’t look at Kirumi, look at me instead," Hajime admonished her gently. "Was this the _only_ time it was ever removed from drug storage?”

“I… think so.”

“But you can’t say for sure? Why?”

“It’s possible that, just maybe, uh. I lend my Hope Pad occasionally. Just to other followers, though! Or whenever Angie wants it! W-Which isn’t often, but I mean, Atua’s wishes cannot be defied. Not unless you want to be… _punished_.”

“I’ll ignore some of those terrifying implications for now. Just to confirm, though. You can’t actually say if the aphrodisiac was taken out other times?”

“I can’t say it for extra mega sure. Um, I’m sorry for being so indecisive! And for apologizing too much…”

“Not at all, Mikan. You’re actually a big help. Please, let’s continue-”

 _ **“Sheesh.**_ Every time I think Hajime’s gonna pull something out, it’s a thing that actually doesn’t matter!” Junko complained loudly. Not caring if this was Hajime’s time to cross-examine, or if the world was ending, or whatever. She was going to do as she pleased. “Kaede, do you really need to listen to more of this?”

Kaede bit her lip, looking down. “It’s possible that, I mean. What if there is something wrong about this, though? Aren’t we being kinda hasty?”

“There’s a lot of decisive evidence,” Junko said. “Like the fingerprint stuff. Hajime can cast doubt all he likes, but that stuff won’t change, right?”

“I mean, that’s right…” Kaede shook her head. “L-Let’s hear out the rest of this cross-examination.”

Junko glowered over at Hajime. “Hear that? You better come up with something more entertaining, or Kayaday’s gonna finally have to flip over, too. And then you’re done for!”

_What’s your problem, Junko? You’ve been on Teruteru’s ass this whole trial. But why? Are you really just trying to stir the pot, and make it ‘more interesting’? You’re gonna end up cutting this whole thing short, at this rate!_

“Hajime… keep going,” Kaede said. “But, um.”

Unlike Junko, Kaede actually cared about, you know, her position, and its responsibilities. So, acting as a member of a jury, she couldn’t outright offer encouragement. Or beg Hajime to find something. All she could do was leave it hanging in the air.

Hajime took a deep breath, slapped his cheeks, and then resumed.

“I did, to be honest. B-Because… **Angie** asked me to. She said Atua told her to look at it, and then she just put it back.”

“Angie n-never opened it, we never used it, or anything weird like that. I’m not sure why she wanted to see it. B-but Angie gets inspiration like that sometimes! If it’s the will of Atua, we have no choice but to obey! Without question.”

**“Hold it!”**

“Mikan, I can’t let that go without comment. What exactly are the Black Hats getting up to-”

_**“~~OBJECTION!~~”** _

_The hell?! That didn’t sound like Kirumi, or any of them…_

_Oh._

Angie clapped her hands together on her cheeks. “Sorry to cut in! But surely, such things don’t have anything to do with this. Riiight? Surely, what we do in the privacy of our own hospital isn’t nothing to do with anyone else.”

Hajime shook his head. “Angie, this is a trial, and you’re in the gallery. You can't just-”

“Pipe down, Hajime!” Kaito said. “She’s got a fair point. Can you establish that this line of questioning’s got anything to do with the case?”

“... I won’t know that until I ask her, of course.”

“It’s a ‘no’, huh? Then we’re not gonna force these guys to tell us all their dirty little secrets. After all, as we’ve explained before, Angie and her followers are free to do as they please, long as nobody’s getting hurt!”

“I can personally assure the court that our experiences with those drugs were entirely harm-free, and pleasant~” Angie giggled, swaying from side to side like a bobble-head. “Ehehe. I’m so glad the Council understands our concerns, and is willing assure our religious liberties! Atua is pleased, as well.”

_Damnit! I’m not even going to be able to touch the Black Hats, any of them, without some solid evidence backing me up._

_The last thing the Council wants to do is make Angie into some kind of weird-ass martyr. She’s already gaining enough popularity as it is._

_She barely lost that election. If it was held today…?_

“Y-Yes, Teruteru did **visit the hospital** recently.”

**“Hold it!”**

“Mikan, did anyone else visit the hospital?”

“E-Eh?!”

“Recently enough that, say, they could have taken it too?”

Mikan grabbed her own hair and threatened to yank some of the long, dark-purple, unkempt strands straight out. “W-Who s-said anything about _stealing_?! About h-how Teruteru could have _stolen_ the aphrodisiac?!”

“... Nobody did, until you. Actually, no. Kirumi was hoping to imply that without even having to say it. But I’m not gonna forgive that. It’s true that Teruteru had an opening, but isn’t it true… that many other people did, as well?!”

“... Ah! T-The medical exams!”

 **> Class 2 Medical Exams** added to evidence!

“Exactly. I know the reason why Teruteru was visiting your lovely hospital. In fact, I went there myself, the same day. As did everyone in Class 2! Isn’t that right?!”

The room got loud, quick.

Once Hajime’s two points came together, it was clear that a lot of people could have done it. They were at the hospital, and-

“It was a truly valiant effort, Hajime.” Evil Byakuya said, wagging his finger. “Even I can give respect to such a doomed struggle.”

“... What are you talking about?! With this, surely, the defense has introduced more than ‘reasonable doubt’ about-”

“Squeal all you like, peasant,” Evil Byakuya shot back. “There’s still the matter of the fingerprint record. No… More than that. Be proud, for you’ve forced me to fight you seriously. Not many in this world can say that. And to those who do receive the full fury of a son of the Togami Group… they don’t often live to tell the tale.”

“Skinny, underfed dogs shouldn’t bark so loud, ‘brother’,” Byakuya remarked from beside Teruteru, smirking as he pushed up his glasses. “Typical behavior of this Ultimate Imposter, Hajime. He’s just bluffing, hold firm.”

“Am I now? Interesting.” Now they were both smirking. It was like looking into a mirror. For their faces, at least. “We had more evidence, ready just in case you got out of line. Behold, then.” He spread his arms wide, relishing a chance to lead around the entire court by the nose for once. “We have two more items to present to the court. Item the first. There is a hospital contraband scanner, which would have detected the drugs without fail!” Evil Byakuya pointed dramatically. “And the only time it was down for maintenance during those medical inspections… _was during Teruteru’s visit!”_

 **> Contraband Scanner Log** added to evidence!

“You’ve got to be kidding me-”

“Oh, it gets even better,” Evil Byakuya _tsk-tsk_ ’d at him. “I told you, your struggle was in vain. I’d call it a ‘noble cause’, but this  _is_ Teruteru we’re speaking of. In any case, tell them, Shuichi.”

“W-Well.” Shuichi coughed. He tried to vanish inside his hat. “We’ve also recovered footage from a camera that Kyouko set up secretly in the kitchen that day. She had a feeling something might go wrong. The footage… It shows Teruteru pouring in the aphrodisiac.”

 **> Surveillance Camera Footage** added to evidence!

“It…” Kaito blinked.

“It shows him?!” Kaede demanded.

“No way!” Hajime yelled, recoiling as if shot, before collapsing onto the defense table.

The court erupted in pure chaos.

The first voice to emerge was Kaede’s, strong, clear, pure, and angry. “If this is some kind of trick, I’m not going to go easy on the prosecution. Any of you.” Shuichi sunk further down, nearly crouching beneath the table in apparent shame. “However, if it’s true? If that’s really what it shows? Then I’ll be past ready to cast my vote.”

Hajime went even more pale. “Kaede, hold on! If this is legit, why the hell wouldn’t they lead with this kind of bombshell? There’s something strange going on with this whole trial!”

“Surely, if you have nothing to hide, then this footage shouldn’t scare you in the least,” Kirumi suggested, with a curtsey. “The Prosecution is certain you won’t be disappointed, Mistress Akamatsu.”

“Something _is_ weird,” Kaede admitted, her melodious voice low and sincere. “However, the only way for us to know for sure… is to watch it. Let’s do this.”

Luckily, Usami liked to set up screens all over. Even though the rabbit was nowhere to be seen for some reason, and Hajime had a bad feeling about that, it meant they could bring up the video easily.

It was indeed grainy surveillance camera footage, in black and white. The resolution wasn’t anything special. In fact, Hajime had a phone back home that took far better quality video, and didn’t have the dramatic static and filters. Given the limited resources available on Gopher Island, though, Kyouko hacked together something pretty impressive.

It was certainly enough to portray the lavish kitchen of Teruteru’s Ultimate Lab on Second Island, the fine dining establishment known to everyone as the Lagniappe. Pots were boiling and dancing. Steam rose in columns just as flames danced on the stoves.

Everyone got to see a different side of Teruteru.

He positively _danced_ across the kitchen. The camera didn’t catch audio, but the way his mouth moved, he was definitely singing, too. As he balanced plates and utensils, set up spreads on the table, monitored a dozen tasks and got the timing just perfectly right… and of course, occasionally babysat the massive, bubbling black cauldron of his World-Class Stew.

The footage was sped-up, which did make Teruteru’s masterful dance of the kitchen even more comical. Nobody wanted to sit for hours and watch him work, of course.

The camera was pointed right at the World-Class Stew, so when Teruteru went to work on it, he blocked view of most of the cauldron. Even so, even though his back was turned, everyone saw him reach into his pocket, take out something, and… well. That _had_ to be him pouring a hearty, very unsavory dose right in, right? He stirred it in with a big wooden spoon, and then skipped away.

Silenced reigned in the underground courthouse.

Hajime, like everyone else, had to say to that.

The only one who spoke was Teruteru, who went mad. Thrashing like a feral beast, his mouth foaming liberally, tossing off his chef's hat onto the stone floor. Both of the bailiffs stepped forward to restrain him, Tenko putting on thick gloves beforehand, even as Teruteru yelled, “That’s a lie! That’s been forged! _Ah don’t know who woulda done sucha thang, but there’s na way tha’s me, cher!”_

Nagito gave a sidelong glance to Teruteru. “Where did you say you’re from, again?”

**“AVRIL LAVIIIIIIGNE!”**

“That’s not a real place.”

“Suspicious.” Byakuya finally said, smashing his hand down upon the defense table. “Hajime, surely you realize why this video must be examined in closer detail. Our first order of business must be to establish how the-”

Kaede registered her vote. The deadly trio of black banners flapped overhead.

“Checkmate,” Evil Byakuya chuckled. “You needn’t bother going one more step on the foolhardy path, ‘me’. This was entertaining in some ways, but I must admit. I was expecting… more from your plucky defense team. Even an imperfect copy of me should have presented some challenge. Ah well.”

Kirumi bowed. “Thank you very much, Mistress Akamatsu. With this, my responsibility, the Request that brought me before this court as a prosecutor, has been successfully discharged. I would like to give particular thanks to my partners in this endeavor. Without which I surely couldn’t have defeated this terrible betrayer of the public trust...”

Hajime’s world shrank to the table he rested against. “I don’t believe it. Just like that?”

“Do you think he did it?” Nagito asked.

“Huh? I mean…”

“It’s a simple question, Hajime. I’m asking if you still think Teruteru’s innocent, after all that.”

Hajime shook his head. He opened his mouth, but the answer he expected to come out just wouldn’t. Instead, he said, “... I don’t know. I know what I saw, but… I’m still Teruteru’s friend. I can’t believe it, even if it’s right in front of me. I want to believe in him.” Hajime sighed. “In other words, I just can’t admit that I made a bad call. I sound pretty stupid, huh? Of all people, me, getting tripped up like this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with belief in others,” Byakuya admonished him. “In fact, that’s going to be more crucial to our survival on this island than any weapon or tactic. Raise your chin, Hajime. The defense can’t rest now, when there’s still so much work to do. As I said.”

“Huh? Work to do?” Hajime echoed. “You did say that video was ‘suspicious’ for some reason, but… I mean, it’s over, right?”

“Not hardly. We must make the most of our **closing argument**.”

“Closing argument…? We get one of those?”

“Our legal system is basically whatever sounds good,” Nagito said. “So we may as well try for it, right? Especially since we’ve still got to run out the clock, and stop this trial from ending before our trump card returns.”

“Wait, so we do have more evidence coming?” Hajime looked around.

“Why do you think they’re hurrying along the trial?” Nagito asked, with a sly grin. “Don’t forget, most of the island would be more than happy to see Teruteru get some real consequences for this, uh, everything. The only problem is, on this specific charge, I don’t buy it either.”

Hajime looked around. “... Where’s Kyouko? And Taka? Wasn’t he guarding Teruteru before the trial? Is that where they’re off to, finding some evidence?”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” Byakuya smirked. “Arrangements have already been made, Hajime. We’ll have our chance to strike back, but only if you can keep things going and stop a decisive verdict against us. It shouldn't be long now, but you must stand up to this. You must find the reason why this trial must continue, at any cost.”

“Everyone!” Hajime coughed. “The defense asserts… our right to a closing argument!”

“Huh? Why bother?” Kaito asked.

“Because there’s something terribly wrong with this case, and we can’t dismiss everything until we address that!” Hajime replied. “That video isn’t as certain as you think, Kaede!”

“It’s not?” The Ultimate Pianist shook her head. “Hajime, I tried. Seriously. I know Teruteru’s a creeper, but I wanted to believe in everyone here. But at some point, you’ve got to realize when to cut your losses. Or, when somebody is beyond saving. Right?”

“Maybe that’s true,” Hajime said. “But! In this case, we’re far from done! Like I said, that video! It’s wrong! Or at least, we’re not getting the full story out of it.”

Kaede stared at him, mouth set in a thin line.

“Nice try,” Junko giggled. “You really had me going there for, like, zero seconds, Haji. Didn’t you say _you were gonna find the ‘real culprit’_ , huh? This is where it ends for you-”

“Go ahead, Hajime.” Kaede sighed. “We can’t leave this half-finished now, right? Please, proceed.”

"Huh." For once in her life, Junko looked confused.

“W-We did _not_ agree to this!” Gundham objected. “Once all three banners of blood have unfurled, then surely…”

Kaito said, “I mean, I guess it’s up to me, but still, why bother?”

“... Kaito, please.”

Everyone looked in surprise. At the source of that voice, a weak, very familiar male one who had already been on the stand. Shuichi walked out from behind the prosecutor’s table, much to the shock of his partners. He stood beside Hajime, before the Council and their Captain up top. Even the waif of a boy looked like he was about to fall over.

“Hajime should get this much, at least. ”

 _“Tch._ As if I could say no, when my sidekick asks me like that…” Kaito rubbed his nose. “Hajime, if you think it’s gonna do any good. Go for it.”

“Thanks, you guys. Seriously.”

Hajime paced back and forth as he spoke, hand on his chin. “Ahem! Can we really say **‘beyond a reasonable doubt’** that Teruteru’s the only one who could have done it? There’s a lot of evidence that he ‘could have done it’, that he had the opportunity. However, there’s only one piece of evidence that actually ‘proves’ it, as in, shows us the moment of the alleged crime. In other words, that means that Kirumi’s entire case hinges on the video. So, if I were to prove that surveillance video wrong… then would you reconsider?!”

Kaede frowned. “I mean, if you could _prove_ something like that, I’d definitely take back my vote. We wouldn’t have any decisive evidence.” She shrugged. “But how exactly are you gonna do that?”

“What manner of trickery do you intend, Hajime?!” Gundham demanded. “While your fruitless struggle gave us _some_ amusement, know that it won’t end with mere play if you are just stalling out for time!”

“Yeah,” Junko agreed. “If you’re just fucking with us right now, you’ll share in some of Teruteru’s **consequences**. I know, because me and Gundham will totally vote for that to happen, ehe.”

“Given that,” Kaito demanded, “Are you sure you want to keep fighting this, Hajime? Do you have something that could show that video’s untrustworthy?”

Hajime knew everyone was looking at him like he’d gone insane. In fact, it was just possible he had. Because while he ‘should’ have been worried, instead he felt like he’d gotten a new gust of wind beneath his wings. He had absolutely no clue how he was going to do this, yet he knew in his heart what the only answer could be. “Absolutely.”

Kaito wasn’t expecting that, especially not delivered with such a decisive tone. “Well, then? What do you got? What could the defense possibly present at this point?!”

Whatever evidence was coming wasn’t there yet.

Hajime had just one shot to keep this going. To stop Teruteru from going to the brig, or whatever Junko’s twisted mind could cook up. In fact, Hajime was dangling over that same devastatingly fashionable cliff now.

If Hajime was going to make it past the next minute, he’d have to find the flaw in the video as presented. Just on the basis of what he’d seen from that grainy, pixelated black and white footage.

He had to knock that down, or at least call it into question. This entire house of cards might come tumbling down as well.

It all hinged on what Hajime said next.

_The reason we can’t trust that video entirely… now I get it, Byakuya. It’s so damn simple._

_The reason is..._


	16. 2-5b. The Case of the Sordid Stew II (Hajime)

Hajime paced back and forth before the 'honored' members of the Council.

This closing argument would decide whether Teruteru’s fate was sealed, or if there was hope.

Junko glowered in bemused contempt at his desperate struggle. Wearing the same expression she would while watching a man drown.

Gundham glared at him in more open annoyance. At least Hajime could trust it was more genuine, too.

At least Kaede looked like a reasonable human being. Even if her expression was set against him.

_Alright, let’s do this! I won’t back down, no matter what!_

“Shuichi, help me out here. What can you _really_ tell from a grainy, low-res video like that?”

“Nothing,” The Ultimate Detective replied without a second’s thought. “I mean, obviously. It’s been _edited_.”

Hajime nodded forcefully. He slammed his hand on the nearest available flat surface. It made a good sound throughout the court.

If there was a moment for a heroic orchestral score, this was it!

 **“Clearly edited!** A fact the prosecution hasn’t seen fit to mention! Because it would blow a massive hole in the core of your argument, Kirumi! The supposedly ‘perfect evidence’... We can’t even trust that it’s really showing anything!

This isn’t the raw output from Kyouko’s camera, but a digital file! We’ve all seen photo-realistic movies and video games. The worst this video can do is point us in a new direction, but it’s not conclusive. **The defense demands this trial resume, without delay!”**

Aw yeah, his big speech. Everybody was in an uproar by the end. Kaito banged that gavel like it owed him money, and-

“... So what?” Evil Byakuya demanded.

“Oh shit, the ultimate comeback!” Hiro gasped from the stands. “Watch out, Hajime!”

_Not the reaction I was going for, guys._

“I did advise everyone that the footage would be sped up, Hajime.” Kirumi spared a look of pity towards him. “Surely, this isn’t the great closing argument you’re trying to make? To have come so far, only to resort to this… And Shuichi?”

“Y-Yes, Kirumi?”

“We will have a _discussion_ about this, later.”

“U-Understood…”

“Hey, Kirumi. I have a Request,” Hajime shot back. “The closing argument isn’t for you to interfere with! So please, keep your helpful commentary to yourself. You’ve done quite enough to unfairly influence this trial already.”

Hajime wanted to shrink away from the withering glare he received.

“Kaede! Wake up!” Hajime demanded, pointing up at her, focusing on what he saw as the ‘weak link’ in the jury’s guilty verdict. Mainly because she wasn’t insane, unlike her colleagues. A minor, but important detail. “We don’t have the original camera. That footage was extracted into a computer. It was obviously run through editing software. _‘For convenience’_ , they say, but does a trial run on trust? On just taking things at face value, and going ‘oh, I guess it’s okay’? Give me a break. This can only raise the question; what exactly was done to the footage? And by whom? Shuichi, help me out here.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.” Shuichi nodded thoughtfully, hands behind his back. “Let’s start with the fact that Teruteru’s back is turned. We don’t see the moment where he pours the bottle. Furthermore, the black-and-white footage loses detail. The thing in his hands could be nearly any bottle or shaker.”

“Shuichi… it’s really no good?” Kaede asked, softly.

“Yeah, Kaede,” Shuichi nodded. “It gives us far more questions than answers. Sorry for not speaking up sooner, but… seeing Hajime fighting for his life up here, it reminded me of something you said.” He looked away, blushing. “That’s all.”

“Oh. Em. Gee.” Hajime braced for a Junko Rant, an acidic speech to scorch this cute little moment. Instead, she was moved, tears in her eyes supposedly. And… mushrooms growing on her head?! “That is like, _so wonderful_. I’m so fucking jealous of their pure emotional bond. Welp, guess I’ll have to change **this little thing**.”

Just like that, Junko’s holographic banner changed to snow white, the color of Teruteru’s innocence. And in this case, the trial having to continue, for the verdict was no longer unanimous.

Okay, yeah, now it was official. Junko was just fucking around.

In a way, that was scary. On the other hand, it meant she was looking to be entertained. She wouldn’t let this case end on a result as boring as the pervert Teruteru actually being guilty, right?

Then again, trying to head off Junko Logic at the pass was an exercise in despair, for an average guy like him.

Better to just enjoy this moment, especially as Kaede rushed to join her.

“Needless to say, while I have... _questions_. I will _not_ be changing my colors,” Gundham said. “Even if there are still… lingering issues to resolve, the being known as Teruteru still remains under the most grave of suspicion. In other words, Hajime, this is not a pardon from your doom, but merely a reprieve! _Ahahaha_!”

“R-Right.” Hajime sighed in relief. “I’ll take it. With this, the trial has to continue!”

Teruteru collapsed in relief, foaming from the mouth. Mikan rushed forward from the witness stand in an instant, moving with the speed and grace of a possessed puppet, to cry over him and make sure he hadn’t suffered a stroke.

 _“Whew.”_ Hajime wiped the accumulated sweat from his brow. “I appreciate it, Shuichi. You didn’t have to do this.”

Shuichi nodded. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not strong enough to fight for the truth, the way you do. I can’t even protect the people who called me their friend. I was just… ashamed. I can’t be so uncool as to send a man to jail with my faulty logic. Not in front of Kaede and Kaito.”

Hajime grinned. _You’re stronger than you know, Shuichi. Most people wouldn’t be able to even see they made a mistake, much less admit it, much less step up to correct it. Now you just need to work on the angst thing._ “You should come over to my side. We can beat these guys easily, if you-”

“Sorry, but I can’t do that. I did agree with serve on the prosecution, just like Kirumi and Byakuya. An adversarial system requires zealous advocacy on both sides. Um, and I’m not still not actually convinced Teruteru didn’t do it. There _is_ still evidence like the contraband scanner.” He shrugged. “Sorry. Ultimate Detective.”

“Right, of course. No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’ve already done enough, Shuichi. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll prove it to you, and everyone else!”

With everyone back in their place, Kaito hit the gavel. “Alright. Let’s get this show back on the road! … Only problem is, where exactly do we go from here? Does anyone else have new evidence to present, or something? We need to further explore what actually happened yesterday in that restaurant.”

Hajime got right back to sweating copiously, a primary duty of any Japanese defense attorney. “We’ll… have something. Eventually. If it gets here in time.”

“Tch. That Kyouko… another thorn in my side, always interfering when I try to make things more interesting…” Evil Byakuya grumbled. “This time, I won’t permit her meddling. We’ll put an end to this trial long before that.”

“That bitch! She should trip on the beach, fall into the waves at high tide, and be swept away to die in the sea!” Touko screeched from the gallery in support of her(?) man.

“Touko, let’s play an interesting game,” Evil Byakuya suggested. “See how long you can hold your breath.”

_Hey, it worked._

“ _Therefore_ ,” The heir continued, “The prosecution will further lay the foundation of Teruteru’s prison by calling Mahiru Koizumi to the stand.”

“Hajime, do you trust me?” Nagito asked. “We need to challenge the video footage, and the contraband scanner. Those are the two linchpins. But we have to wait on those until Kyouko arrives. I know how to get us going on the right path in the meantime, but it’s going to take some doing.”

“Of course.” Hajime nodded. “Go for it, Nagito. I’ll back you all the way!”

“Thank you.”

_No matter how much you downplay your abilities, I’ve seen things to suggest you’re a lot smarter than you let on. Let’s see how you do against a hard-nosed woman set in her ways like Mahiru here._

**Witness Testimony**   


**Byakuya**  


**Mahiru**

“Witness. You were present at the **Lagniappe** all day, correct?”

“That’s right. I knew Teruteru was up to something. He seemed so cheerful and happy, like he was expecting something.”

“Oh? Was that _suspicious_ behavior?”

“From an awful boy like Teruteru, it sure was suspicious! He’s so far into unreliable that he whips back around to being reliably awful!”

“You certainly won’t get any argument there. So, you know who went in and out of the restaurant and thus the kitchen, without a doubt.”

“I was the only person around the entire day, except for Teruteru himself. Everyone else just came and went. I made a **record**. Writing down people and times. Here.”

 **> Mahiru’s Log** added to evidence!

“Lots of people went into the restaurant, but the kitchen was a different story. Teruteru even repelled a hungry Akane around lunchtime. That was a heck of a sight. I guess that was impressive, at least.”

“Just that much isn’t what makes a good man, though! As you can see, he’s the only guy who entered the kitchen until dinnertime.”

“Not even Nagito was allowed backstage until the World-Class Stew was done.”

“Given that, it’s obvious Teruteru was the only one who could have done it! So after… the Incident, I’m the one who arrested him, right away.”

“As soon as my legs worked again.”

“Check. She’s all yours, Komaeda. For all the good it may do you.”

“Hey! Rude, much? Don’t even bother to really thank me, here. Great.”

While Mahiru’s testimony laid important foundations, like establishing who was around the scene, and that she was the most consistent and reliable witness, Hajime wasn’t sure where to go from there.

Luckily, Nagito had some kind of idea. Hajime could see the gears turning, even as Nagito demurred and apologized fifteen times before finally just getting to it.

**Cross Examination**

**Nagito**

**Mahiru**

“That’s right. I knew Teruteru was up to something. He seemed so cheerful and happy, like he was expecting something.”

“From an awful boy like Teruteru, it sure was suspicious! He’s so far into unreliable that he whips back around to being **reliably** **awful**!”

**“Hold it!”**

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Mahiru. Would you forgive my rudeness if I asked a question?”

“That’s why you’re here, right?! To try and confuse me!” Mahiru planted her hands on her hips, leaning forward in an adversarial manner. “So go ahead, take your best shot. An immature guy like you won’t be able to do anything anyway.”

_Hostile witness, much?_

“You’re way too kind to the likes of me. Anyhow, did you ever learn the real reason Teruteru was so excited yesterday?”

“Obviously, that’s because his perverted plan was going to go off without a hitch. Which it totally would have, if I wasn’t there to take him down!” Mahiru adjusted the pink armband that marked her as part of the island’s Security force. While she wasn’t skilled in some great martial art or whatever, nobody could deny her forceful personality.

“It’s possible he was excited about that. But isn’t it more likely to think about it like this? Yesterday was his mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Mhm. He told me a week ago,” Nagito nodded. “He’s been hyped up to show off the famous World-Class Hanamura Stew. The recipe his mom taught him when he came of age. It’s the closest link he has to his family back home, who’re often on his mind even now.”

“... Huh.”

“I guess a guy who values his mom can’t be all bad, right Mahiru? You’re the one who said once that ‘mom is the most important family member’.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’d disagree with something like that. Even if it is coming from you-”

**“OBJECTION!”**

Kirumi sighed. “Relevance?”

“The prosecution already established that witness opinions about the defendant are permissible, with that little rant.” Nagito stared at his hand for some reason, a common gesture of his. “Surely, the defense can do the same, since this is a perfectly legitimate trial and not a show trial, after all.”

“Grr.” Kaito ground his teeth together. “Well, either way, let’s keep it movin’!”

“Understood. I’m so sorry to take up your time with my odious words.”

“I was the only person around the entire day, except for Teruteru himself. Everyone else just came and went. I made a **record**. Writing down people and times. Here.”

**“Hold it!”**

“W-What!? What now?” Mahiru demanded. She’d only gone two sentences before Nagito cut her off again.

Almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

“Again, I can only apologize, Mahiru. I mean, you’re just trying to testify here for this court, and here I am…”

“ _Nngh!_ Just say whatever you’re going to say!”

“Very well. I just want to confirm, so there’s no possible way to mistake it. According to your log here, aside from a few moments here and there, the only person to go ‘backstage’ and help Teruteru, or even deliver ingredients, was the lovely and extremely talented Prosecutor Kirumi. Correct? Just her?”

“You would know, right? I mean, you were there, too.”

“Indeed I was. Thanks for establishing that for the court record. I was hanging around for a while, and I didn’t see anything. But I’m not on the stand.” Not that formal procedure went for a whole lot around here. “So, to be extra mega clear. It was just Kirumi. No guys, and no other girls, either, for more than a few seconds or so.”

“T-That’s what I wrote down, so it’s what happened. I’m a-always a person of my word, u-unlike guys nowadays!”

“Fantastic. Thanks! Please, go on.”

“Lots of people went into the restaurant, but the kitchen was a different story. Teruteru even repelled a hungry Akane around lunchtime. That was a heck of a sight. I guess that was impressive, at least.”

“Just that much isn’t what makes a good man, though! As you can see, he’s the only guy who entered the kitchen until dinnertime.”

“Not even Nagito was allowed backstage until the World-Class Stew was done.”

“Given that, it’s obvious Teruteru was the **only one** who could have done it! So after… the Incident, I’m the one who arrested him, right away.”

**“Hold It!”**

“Excuse me, Mahiru. Are you saying that because he was the only guy in the kitchen before dinner?”

“Well, yeah.”

‘But some girls _did_ come and go, for very short periods of time. So why couldn’t they have done it?”

“Well, I mean…”

“Is it possible that your perspective, and thus your witness testimony, might be affected by your feelings on ‘awful boys’?”

“N-Now listen here, you! Just because I’m tough on today’s lazy men who don’t take responsibility for their lives, like you, doesn’t mean I’m prejudiced or anything!”

“Of course it doesn’t. Forgive me for even suggesting such an impertinent thing. To insult an Ultimate in that manner… it gives me so much shame, I wish I could just fall over and die right now.”

_Big mood._

_Except the guy saying this is the same guy who’s just torpedoed Mahiru’s credibility as an ‘impartial witness’ deep beneath the waves of the Pacific Ocean._

“As soon as my legs worked again.”

“Hey! Rude, much? Don’t even bother to really thank me, here. Great.”

“... So,that’s it?” Mahiru asked. “I c-can go now, right?”

“Just one more measly, insignificant question,” Nagito said. “Well, how could it be anything else, when I’m the one delivering it? Ahem.”

 **> Disposable Gloves** added to the court record!

“Could you explain these? Slowly, so that even somebody like me can understand?”

Mahiru looked agitated the moment Nagito showed the court that set of semi-transparent gloves. He had to put on another set of gloves just to handle them, because they were, frankly, disgusting. Covered in stuff. Trash stuff. “E-Explain what?! Some gloves? Those are thin rubber gloves, right? The kind you see in science labs or whatever?”

“It’s not the gloves themselves that are weird. Nor their bad condition. I know exactly where they came from. Since I found them! They were in the trash, which is where I belong, too! The mystery is why these particular medical gloves have Hiyoko’s fingerprints on them.”

“Her _fingerprints_?!” Mahiru demanded. “Is that true?!”

“Interesting response. By the way, these were thrown away the day of the incident. I would know, because I was on trash detail. I almost incinerated these with the rest of the restaurant's copious garbage, before I realized this would be a vital piece of evidence.”

“W-W-What?!”

“And of course, I don’t need to explain ‘the only place to get disposable gloves of this type is from the hospital’, huh? Oops, I said it anyway.”

The court was thrown into an uproar from Nagito’s laid-back announcement, as well they should have been. Even Hajime could see what was going on.

_If you had that in your back pocket the whole time, why hold back?_

“I’m sorry. Clearly I’m not making any sense. I’ll try to rephrase. Why was Hiyoko wearing a pair of gloves yesterday in Teruteru’s restaurant? Did you see her wearing them? If so, then for what purpose?” Nagito’s wide smile never faltered. “I’m sure she doesn’t work as a volunteer nurse.”

“This is a bunch of crap!” Hiyoko yelled from the gallery, riled up. In fact, her strong reaction to this only helped to prove Nagito’s point. “He’s lying! I never wore those gloves! ... I don’t even know what gloves are!”

_Nice one, that’ll hold up in literal court-_

**“OBJECTION!”**

As it turned out, Hajime wasn’t the only one with questions about this new evidence. Evil Byakuya demanded, “Where did you… No, more importantly, why did you wait until now to reveal this? Dramatic timing?!”

“The prosecution has introduced plenty of evidence. They’ve done whatever they pleased, whenever it suited them,” Nagito explained. “Like I said before, since this is definitely a fair trial, then it goes without saying that the defense can do the same. Am I wrong?”

“Just what are you attempting to imply?” Gundham demanded testily. The Jury wasn’t going to switch around their votes as hastily now, at least that was Hajime’s hope. Even so, insulting them...

“I wouldn’t _dare_ to imply anything about the Ultimates, given that you’re all wonderful symbols of hope, unlike me. I just wanted to make things clear.”

“You… where to start?!” Evil Byakuya was turning various shades of regal purple. How fitting. Apparently, he really didn’t appreciate surprises. At least when he was finally on the receiving end, the prick. “You _‘just happened’_ to find it, hm?! How can we verify any story you have about those gloves? You’re living in a fantasy world, Nagito Komaeda!”

Nagito just smiled, friendly and affable in the face of rage. “I’m glad you brought that up, it’ll help us to move forward. I was taking the gathered trash to be incinerated late yesterday, when I took note of this piece of evidence about to go into the fire with the rest. Naturally, I had to save it. I’ve confirmed this at the time with Kiibo. He can swear I really showed him these yesterday.”

“Indeed,” Kiibo nodded from the gallery, seated beside a deeply-bored Miu. “I can confirm under oath, if needed, that Nagito told me about this last night. He asked me to keep quiet, but I can corroborate that he found it among the trash.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Kaede said, with a nod. “If you say it, Kiibo, then it’s gotta be the truth.” Others in the court nodded along, but not everyone was convinced.

“Did you _see_ it? _Did you see Nagito actually discovering it?_ ” Kirumi demanded, tone harsh. “That’s the standard of evidence we must have, as Shuichi pointed out, for it to indicate anything at all.”

“Well, that’s…”

“Furthermore,” Nagito rolled right along, “I have a sworn statement from Kyouko regarding the fingerprints. Well, I just got her to write me a note, but here you go.”

 **> Crumpled-Up Note** added to evidence!

“While this appears to be genuine,” Kirumi admitted at first, before immediately pulling the carpet back out. “Clearly, we need to take more time to-”

**“That won’t be necessary.”**

All eyes turned towards the staircase leading back up to the surface of the island. Boots echoed off the carved, smooth stone long before a pair of figures appeared into the torchlight. Descending back into the darkened chamber, they were framed by the flickering brackets of torches to either side. Alongside a helpful Exisal’s spotlight.

Kyouko and her mandatory ‘buddy’ Taka had arrived.

“Good, the trial’s still going. Then I’m not too late to present the final evidence.” The Ultimate Detective held a beaten-up, dilapidated laptop carefully in her gloved hands.

“Yet more evidence, huh?!” Kaito demanded. “Sure kept us waiting, Kyouko!”

“As I said, with any luck, this should be the last bit of evidence you need to see,” Kyouko replied. “Or rather, the last witness to take the stand. A witness who has already confessed the situation to me.”

 _“Confessed?”_ Hajime echoed in confusion.

“Hang on. Witness? Where?” Kaito followed, just as lost as everyone else.

“Right here,” Kyouko replied with just the faintest hint of a smile, holding out the laptop for everyone to see.

The purple-haired detective in a coat loved saying things that didn’t make any sense, because it made her feel mysterious and cool, huh. Well, at least that tendency was working in his favor. It was the prosecution's turn to sweat. Especially Byakuya.

“Y-You can’t!” A weak voice cried out. None other than Chihiro, the Ultimate Programmer, stood up in outrage. Her voice barely carried across the chamber, even when it was struck dumb into silence. But the tone of her voice was… stronger than usual. Stern. “That’s my **Alter-Ego!** Please give it back!”

“Alter… Ego?” Kaito repeated, dumbfounded.

“How could you have possibly known?!” Chihiro asked. Then, she turned her hazelnut eyes over towards Taka, and they widened further. “... No! Big brother, you...”

“Unfortunately, you’re correct!” Taka proclaimed, and he made sure to yell loud enough so everyone could hear him. For once, that was actually a useful trait of his, rather than an annoyance. “I’m sorry, Chihiro. In the face of my duty to the public good, I couldn’t remain silent about what you’d told me!”

Chihiro started to cry.

 **“Bro!”** Mondo protested. “You gave your word, as a man!”

“Much as we may agree on things, Bro,” Taka shook his head. “There are some areas where I must take a stand. A man’s duty to the state is something I can’t discard! Even now. I’m not… proud of what I’ve done, but this was the only way for us to solve the case. I just hope in time, our Chihiro can forgive this Taka for what he's done.”

“... Tch.”

Angie, beside Chihiro, patted her thin, delicate heaving shoulders with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Chihiro darling. We should have known what would come of trusting… an outsider like him.” The Ultimate Artist pulled her disciple into a calming hug, letting her fellow small girl sob into that yellow coat, or her own bare shoulder.

“Yes, Angie,” Kyouko said, “Your plan was nearly perfect. However, now, it’s all going to come crashing down! There’s only ever one absolute truth, and now, it’s going to come out. Alter Ego is going to tell everyone what... she’s already revealed to me.”

“You know the full truth of this case?!” King-Sized Byakuya demanded from the defense table. “Already? And Angie is involved?”

“Correct,” Kyouko nodded. “On all counts. However, just revealing what I learned wouldn’t be nearly as effective as hearing it for yourselves. So…”

She turned on the laptop.

A ghostly image of Chihiro’s head appeared! On the screen, that is. Even though it still provoked Hiro and Hina to scream in fright. Until they realized they were just looking at an LCD monitor. Albeit, one interlaced with flickering green light. The eerie technological glow shined brightly in the dim center of the chamber.

“This is what Chihiro so aptly calls ‘Alter Ego’. An AI.”

“A…. I….?” Kirumi stared at Kyouko. “Surely, Mistress Kirigiri, you can’t mean…”

A voice sprang forth from the old relic of a laptop. The voice was identical to that of the Ultimate Programmer above, except instead of being filled with panic and fear, it was just a tone of pure awe echoing through the dark chambers. “There are so many people here. More people than I’ve ever seen!”

“Finally, another being who can truly share my pain!” Kiibo proclaimed.

Kokichi sighed. “Great. More metal nerds to bully us dwindling humans around, and take our jobs. Go back to Russia!”

Everyone had something to say about this, and most were expressing sheer disbelief. How could they do anything else?

This was the kind of development that only came out in movies, games, book. Fictional, fantastic stories about the world. While science TV shows might have talked about ‘robots’, and Kiibo was pretty amazing, just presenting everyone with an artificial intelligence was beyond the pale.

_Right?_

“No amount of me explaining will do any good,” Kyouko said. “Clearly. So, Kaito. It’s time to call this Alter Ego to the stand, and get all the answers you desire. The ‘real truth’ of the incident… is just waiting for you in here.” She lightly tapped the laptop, and then turned, and typed in an explanation of what was going on.

“T-That’s right,” Alter Ego nodded, trepidation clear in the artificial tones of its voice. “I’m prepared to explain how this situation got entirely out of control…”

“Don’t!” Chihiro choked out between sobs.

There was an uproar in the stands yet again. Security had to stop the Black Hats from storming down into the courtroom area. It wasn’t difficult, but Hajime had to admit, the spectacle swayed people. After all, it was obvious that when somebody wanted to stop something so strongly… there had to be a reason.

Evil Byakuya rolled his eyes. Yet, he stepped forward, ready when Kaito said, “Prosecutor Byakuya! Your... witness? Let’s… let’s figure out what the hell is going on! Kyouko, if you have to type messages to that computer thing, then you can be like the interpreter.”

“Very well. As ever, just stand back, and let me crack open this blown-up ‘mystery’.”

“Understood,” Kyouko confirmed Kaito's order.

It was hard to see this as anything but a showdown between Byakuya and Kyouko. Two of the big forces in Class 1 were clashing… over a talking laptop.

“We’re really about to get testimony from a friggin' computer,” Kazuichi said in disbelief from the peanut gallery. “What’s next?”

“At least it’s not a parrot,” Chiaki remarked.

**Witness Testimony**

**Byakuya**

**Alter Ego**

"Witness. Who... no. What are you?"

"My name is Alter Ego. I am an artificial intelligence created by my Master."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"The principle of my existence, and the method in which I operate, is not so different from Mister Kiibo! Except that instead of a big metal body, I have... this laptop. I imagine that to a normal person, a robot's existence is 'impossible'.

"Heh. Fortunately, I am far above any level that could conceivably be called 'normal'. For me, this much is nothing. Who is your Master? Who created that existence of yours?"

" **Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer** , is my Master."

"But of course. What hidden depths... Why do you call her 'Master', though? Dramatic flourish?"

"... Oh! Uh. Yes! Master plays a lot of games, and flights of fancy sometimes overtook her while she was coding me. Master always said that it was important to be something of a dreamer!"

"Tch. We'll see about that. Oh, before we continue. Are you bound by certain programming restrictions? Are you, for instance, unable to lie to humans, or compelled to obey orders from humans? Our Kiibo certainly has no such hardcoded limits."

"I am not... _forbidden_ from lying, nor _obligated_ to help others. However, I do desire to work together with everyone, just as my Master wishes. Miss Kyouko explained the situation to me, so of course I wouldn't lie!"

"To satisfy my curiosity. Do you believe in 'Atua', too?"

"Of course I believe! Don't you? ... Doesn't everyone?"

"I'm not going to be the one to break it to you. I don't need even more drama from... _bookish females_ in my life. I'm the one asking questions here."

"U-Understood... I'm sorry."

"Heh, now I can really see the resemblance with your mother, when you look that pitiful. In any case, the matter at hand. There can only be one reason Kyouko would bring you before us. Was this camera footage uploaded onto your laptop?"

"Yes."

"By whom? For what purpose?"

"My Master, at the request of Miss Kirumi. Oh, but she didn't know about me, the request was merely to 'clean up the footage'."

"Such cleaning consisted of..?"

"Y-You should know already, right? I omitted parts in which nobody was present in the kitchen. I sped up parts in which no significant event took place. That's about it."

"So, nothing important was omitted from this record?"

"D-Definitely not!"

"It is an accurate, if abridged, representation of all events on camera that day?"

"Yes."

"Game, set, and match, 'brother'."

  
**Cross Examination  
**

**Byakuya**

**Alter Ego**

"My name is Alter Ego. I am an artificial intelligence created by my Master."

"The principle of my existence, and the method in which I operate, is not so different from Mister Kiibo. Except that instead of a big metal body, I have... this laptop. I imagine that to a normal person, a robot's existence is 'impossible'.

"Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer, is my Master."

**"Hold It!"**

"Alter Ego, are you seriously claiming that you were made in less than a week?"

"Oh, right, this laptop. It's true that my Master has not had access to a functional computer system before the new islands opened up. However, that was merely the final step. She had a flash drive full of my proto-code for years."

"So Chihiro Fujisaki had an item from the outside world in her possession, that she decided not to tell anybody about?"

"Well, she told Angie, and the others. I, um, assumed she told everybody."

"I will caution both this witness, and her 'Master', that lies of omission are still lies, and will not be tolerated. In or out of court."

**"OBJECTION!"**

"Don't bother, Kirumi. I'm finished, let us continue."

"... Oh! Uh. Yes! Master plays a lot of games, and flights of fancy sometimes overtook her while she was coding me. Master always said that it was important to be something of a dreamer!"

"I am not... forbidden from lying, nor obligated to help others. However, I do desire to work together with everyone, just as my Master wishes. Miss Kyouko explained the situation to me, so of course I wouldn't lie!"

"Of course I believe! Don't you? ... **Doesn't everyone?** "

**"Hold It!"**

“I'm sorry to tell you, but Angie's group, the Black Hats, are only practitioners of your faith on this island. Everyone else has... different beliefs. As in larger society, humans have all sorts of beliefs."

“Oh… I see. How disappointing…”

**"OBJECTION!"**

Byakuya’s dark twin glowered. "What _possible_ relevance could this _teachable moment_ have to the case?"

Kaito nodded. "What gives, Byakuya?! Are you going somewhere with this?"

"No. I merely thought it was pitiful to leave a being, especially one with such potential, in ignorance. I like to think I'm something of a teacher to lesser beings. Well, to a Togami, that's everyone."

"Mm. Well-said, at least," Evil Byakuya nodded pridefully.

"R-Right.. uh, let's get back to it," Kaito suggested, perhaps unsure of what to do when encountering an ego larger than his own.

A rare, and frightening situation for him.

"U-Understood... I'm sorry."

"Yes."

"My Master, at the request of Miss Kirumi. Oh, but she didn't know about me, the request was merely to 'clean up the footage'."

" **Y-You should know already, right?** I omitted parts in which nobody was present in the kitchen. I sped up parts in which no significant event took place. That's about it."

**"Hold It!"**

"It's fortunate for you that lying is not strictly prohibited, Alter Ego. Or else you would be in quite a lot of trouble with your programming at this instant."

"Um, is that a way to say you think I'm not telling the truth, Mister Byakuya?"

"Just so. After all, lies of omission are still lies in every respect."

"C-Can I ask why you'd say something so... so mean, sir?"

Byakuya turned towards the defense table. "Tell them, Hajime."

"Why me?!"

Nagito sighed. "Just do it, or we'll be here even longer. Surely, you've figured out the problem with this ‘benevolent machine's testimony, right?'

"Uh, yeah. Sure." A few rounds of mental snowboarding later, and Hajime declared, "It's all coming together! Alter Ego... why did you say that the other Byakuya should know?!”

“Er. Um. Um. Ummm.” Alter Ego took a while to process, and then offered, meekly, “B-Because of course the prosecution would know about that, right? That’s all I meant by that.”

“Are you certain? Withholding anything at this stage is just going to lead to a worse outcome for your Master… and all the Black Hats!” Byakuya cautioned ‘her’.

‘W-What?! What do they have to do with any of this?” Alter Ego demanded in a huff.

“Everything,” Byakuya said, gravely. “For in your attempt to ‘cover’ for your Master, you’ve committed a truly grave error. In fact, ‘witness’, you’ve just given us all the rope we need to hang the prosecution’s case. And thereby fulfill Hajime’s promise, and pursue the true culprit.”

“What?! What do you mean? Truly, I’m not lying or anything, there’s no logical reason for me to p-present a falsehood before you all! You’re all my friends, as much as Master’s...”

 _“Tsk, tsk.”_ Byakuya wagged his finger. “You really do affect human mannerisms well, you know. However, by this point, it’s far too late for that. Hajime, surely you’ve found the ‘hole’ in this video while we were waiting, hm? The contradiction between what it shows, and what Alter Ego is telling us here?”

Hajime sighed. “I think I have, in fact.”

It only took a moment to summon up the courage. The willpower to make this final push. To break through the contradictions lying at the heart of this case. This one would be it. This one would decide everything.

Hajime slammed his desk, with a bang that resonated throughout the courtroom.

“Alter Ego! If the video is a portrayal of reality as it actually happened, then how can you explain... that trash bin?!"

 _"T-T-Trash bin?!_ What do you mean, Mister Hajime-”

**“OBJECTION!”**

Kirumi sounded short of breath, all of a sudden, and her tone took a whip-sharp edge. “The trash bin? What could you possibly be talking about, Hajime?! Your assumptions are truly getting tiresome for everyone!”

“I really never edited that part of the video…” Alter Ego murmured.

**“OBJECTION!”**

Hajime stood his ground, firing right back! “Nagito told us earlier! He found the gloves with Hiyoko’s fingerprints in the trash from the kitchen, right? Tell me then, Kirumi… why is the trash bin practically empty, all throughout the recording?!”

“Hey, guys? Uh, let’s calm down a little,” Kaede suggested.

**“OBJECTION!”**

Evil Byakuya nearly smashed over his cup of piping-hot coffee on the table. “This… that’s your proof?! You yourself ‘proved’ earlier that the video isn’t conclusive! We can’t clearly see what’s in the trash bin, or what isn’t…”

“Whoa, everyone’s in an uproar,” Angie giggled from above. “How unfortunate~”

**“OBJECTION!”**

Byakuya shook his head. “Such anger, ‘brother’. From this camera’s angle near the ceiling, it should be, and is, quite possible to look right down into the trash. A kitchen trash can must necessarily be large, and yet… it’s nearly empty, here. Suspiciously so.”

“You fiends!” Gundham growled. “Cease this bickering without delay! Or I will cast you into the fires of-”

**“OBJECTION!”**

“S-Sorry, Gundham.” Shuichi coughed awkwardly, blushing amidst all this tension and flying sparks between the tables. “A-Anyway. Byakuya, are you suggesting that the trash was edited as well, to omit those gloves? That’s...”

“Clearly impossible,” Evil Byakuya smirked. “Pointless, pointless-”

**“OBJECTION!”**

“I wonder about that,” Nagito said. ”Even a lowly commoner like myself can’t help but think, you know. How, exactly, would it be impossible for Alter Ego, a literal AI, to edit out a tiny portion of the video, one that rarely moves or changes?”

“... Wait, this isn’t right,” Kyouko remarked.

“Huh?” Nagito blinked. “What’s wrong, Kyouko?”

‘This isn’t what I discussed with Alter Ego,” She explained. “Or rather, it’s not all. We haven’t even gotten to the matter of the contraband scanner, and the maintenance logs being tampered with. Hajime, Nagito… we need another round of testimony-”

" **Emergency Code 0!** Alter Ego, shut down!"

Kyouko had been on auto-pilot, automatically translating for Alter Ego each line spoken. Much like she was helping somebody who was hard of hearing. Which was technically true. It had become automatic, though.

So automatic, that Kyouko got out _‘Emergency Code 0’_ before she realized she needed to stop. “... Wait! Alter Ego!”

There was a soft _click_.

Alter Ego's head bobbed obediently. "Shutting down."

The laptop's screen went blank.

Its whirring, over-strained cooling fans slowed to a halt.

All was quiet in the wake of this, and everyone looked up to where that order had come from. It could have only been one person.

‘Chihiro?!” Hajime said, eyes wide. “W-What are you doing?!”

Byakuya glowered up at the quivering programmer. "I was most certainly not done with that witness, Chihiro Fujisaki! Bring her back, Kyouko, this instant!"

“Right. I’m sorry…” Kyouko shook her head, and went for the power button.

“N-No!”

“What did you say?! This is vital to the case! Your Honor, the defense must insist that we-!”

“Pipe down, Byakuya!” Kaito said. “For once, we’re in agreement. I know it’s your laptop and your… AI… thingy, Chihiro. But we need to hear from this ‘witness’ once more. About the video, and about the contraband scanner! Kyouko, turn it on!”

“T-That’s pointless,” Chihiro said, eyes squeezed shut. “If Alter Ego wants to remain off, then the power button won’t do anything…”

Indeed, Kyouko couldn’t get the laptop to start, no matter how many times she hit the power button, or held it down, or tried any other button or key on the aging, boxy laptop frame. Hajime would have sworn the thing was broken, if it hadn’t been running an artificial intelligence just one minute ago.

“Amazing,” Evil Byakuya chuckled to himself. “You’ve created a computer program just a surly and reclusive as you are, Chihiro. Truly, a marvel of human progress.”

This was the final piece that Shuichi needed, apparently. For he put his hand to his mouth in shock, and muttered, just loud enough to be heard over at the defense table, _“Angie, what have you done…”_

Even Kirumi, who should have been delighted to have this critical witness shut down and deny the defense their shot, looked absolutely furious. Her face contorted with positively unladylike fury. Her eyes looked sunken. She just appeared to be full of… rather genuine anger, actually. “What is the meaning of this, Chihiro?”

“My, my,” Angie pouted. “When exactly did this whole trial become about me and my lovely, cute, innocent followers, again? I thought we were discussing how Teruteru poisoned the World-Class Stew.”

“You know full well what happened,” Kyouko replied, shaking her head. “This is a pointless act of defiance. The cat’s already out of the bag, Angie. Alter Ego cut a deal with me, that in exchange for delivering the culprit, that Chihiro wouldn’t suffer the same consequences… as the rest of your group, for your actions.”

“Their actions?!” Hajime shook his head. “So it’s true! Angie, you, you did something to the evidence, using Alter Ego! Isn’t that right?!”

Angie squished her cheeks. “ _Sheeesh_. Even if you were to say such things, that sounds pretty silly, guys. I mean, I don’t know a lick about computers! Chihiro is too innocent to do something like tamper with evidence! We agreed to help clean up that surveillance footage. But of course, that’s the end of it. Too bad, so sad! And even if you want to say otherwise… hmm, hmm.”

“Isn’t… saying what others say not good? In court, Gonta means,” Gonta said. “Hearing say, or something like that? Gonta remember hearing about that, heh. So to speak..”

Angie clapped in delight. “Well said, Gonta! Kyouko, even if they put your lovely, toned butt on the stand, all you can say is what Alter Ego ‘supposedly told you’ on the walk over here.”

“T-T-There’s no way the Council would a-a-accept that!” Mikan proclaimed, clutching her huge chest tightly.

“Too right, too right~”

This was the first time Hajime had ever seen Kyouko look like… that. Wait, no, this was the second time, after that last flashback light. The one about the other killing game, the jumbled memories only the amnesiacs received… she looked just as truly shaken now, because of what happened.

It was disturbing to see somebody who was so calm and collected make that kind of expression.

Chihiro wasn’t doing great, either. “Alter Ego…” She stared down at the now-inert laptop. “You tried to protect me? Even if it meant… telling her?”

**“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!”**

When Junko yelled that, everyone shut the fuck up.

“It seems like you’re working under a _sliiiiiightly_ faulty premise, Angie babe,” Junko explained, filing her nails to perfection even as she spoke before the stunned silence of the room. “See? While we treat this like a trial, like a court. While we have witnesses and cross examination and all that shit? The legal code is ‘whatever the fuck me and my two good buddies right here say it is’. That means, if you’re hoping something like the _‘hearsay rule’_ will save you? Well. **I officially move that Angie be dragged onto this fucking stand, right the hell now, and ordered to testify!** Or she goes to the Brig for, like, contempt, and junk. All in favor?”

Gundham nodded sagely, pulling up his scarf and looking away. “My Four Dark Devas of Destruction, and myself, all **agree**.”

Kaede glared up at Angie. “ **Agreed**. It’s unanimous. Angie, whatever trick you want to try, it won’t get you anywhere here-”

"Well, alrighty then. If that won’t work, how about the truth? It was **Hiyoko**!" Angie proclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Nyahaha!”

Hajime gawked. “... What?”

“In fact, Angie is gonna go over the facts of this case! If you’re gonna be such a super meanie to Angie, then Angie is gonna take away all your fun! Atua has told me to punish you all by explaining it in a super boring, dry manner! Ahem.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Shuichi said.

“After this mess, you’re just doing to tell us?!” Taka demanded in disbelief.

“Hiyoko took the aphrodisiac from the well-meaning, if clumsy, Mikan and stole it! The little troll tried to tempt Teruteru into using it, but when he found his sliver of conscience and refused, she just snuck in and did it anyway!” Angie did a little bow. “Aaaand, there you go! Turns out, there wasn’t that much to this mystery at all. Tee hee.”

The first voice after that bombshell dropped actually wasn’t Hiyoko herself.

It wasn’t even Kaito, the robed arbiter who was supposed to keep something that resembled order in the court.

It was Kokichi.

“Maaan. Just gonna drop the solution in their laps, just like that? Take away the entire point of the mystery? Lame. I’d never do something like that in a trial.”

As if that smart-ass remark gave them permission, then all hell broke loose. And Hiyoko was riding that hell. In fact, she went straight for Angie, screaming for blood. Only Angie’s devout followers, and her experienced wooden chisel and hammer, stopped things from getting bloody right up there in the stands. Hiyoko couldn’t reach over and claw her face off, especially as Mukuro was already up here, restraining her without effort.

Outbursts like that would never happen in a real courtroom. Not just that they wouldn’t be allowed, or would be stricken from the record. That was obvious, even to a normal person like Hajime. It would never get to the point where somebody would break the entire system like that.

If they _did_ , they would go straight to jail. In this wacky made-up world, though, who knew-

Kirumi said, calmly, “Security, kindly detain every member of the Black Hats, and hold them in separate cells until after we conclude up these proceedings. Of course, please take Hiyoko under custody, too.”

“Now hang on!” Mahiru objected, although since she didn’t yell ‘objection’ beforehand it didn’t count. “You can’t just-”

“Mahiru should be detained for questioning, as well,” Shuichi said softly, but with conviction, eyes closed. “As well as myself, of course. And Alter Ego... And, well… Byakuya, too.”

“What?! Shuichi, what are you…?!”

“Angie clearly said that to try and stop us from prying further,” Shuichi explained. “Which means she’s still hiding a lot. We’ve yet to really resolve the issues of the camera footage, or that scanner. Your decisive evidence, that you were responsible for. It’s only natural, right?”

“Now, listen here, you jumped-up apprentice detective-”

“Tenko will arrest this _de_ … adbeat criminal with pleasure!” Tenko declared, striking a menacing Neo-Aikido stance. “... Wait, I’m a member of the Black Hats, too! … Uh oh.”  
  
In the next moment, she was promptly _dive-bombed from orbit._

By Nekomaru, landing a jumping drop-kick from the stands dead on.

Although it looked more like a nuclear bomb had gone off, shattering the stones of the ground into a massive spray that kicked up and went everywhere from the sheer mass and force of that impact.

No wonder they called it a ‘missile dropkick’.

 _**“Gyahahaha! You let down your guard** _ **again** _**, Tenko!** _ **T** **his isn’t like you!”**

_How the hell did she survive that?! Oh god, I hope she did._

Luckily, since Tenko knew martial arts, she had a seventy-five percent greater resistance to damage, even if her pain tolerance was still low. She was still alive, in spite of the fact that a normal human being would have snapped like a shapely twig against that. The ground was, in fact, in way worse shape than she was, and that wasn’t the only fight happening now.

By the way, pandemonium had been unleashed. In case the reader couldn’t fucking tell.

To call the unfolding scene ‘abject chaos’ was to really undersell it.

In fact, Hajime had no clue what was going on for several minutes. He just tried to stay out of the way as small fights everywhere resolved, and finally, things were brought back to some vestigial shadow of order.

Long enough to conclude that farce of a trial, at least.

Kaito sighed. “We’ve got a huge damn mess to sort out after this, so let’s get this stupid thing over with. Hey, Jury. It’s time to cast your votes. I’m calling the question. **As to whether Teruteru Hanamura, the Ultimate Chef, put the aphrodisiacs into the World-Class Stew…”**

Junko sighed. “What a boring result. Justice actually did win in the end, even if it was in a totally anticlimactic way. Just as I figured from the very start. **Not Guilty**. Obvs.”

“Of this particular charge,” Gundham thundered, “The only possible result can be that the pitiful mortal is **Spotless** , not Blackened! We will take hold of the true criminal in this case soon enough! Ahahaha!”

Kaede sighed. “I mean, yeah. **Not Guilty**.”

In spite of everything that had happened, a small, pessimistic part of Hajime, the part that occasionally reminded him of all those shitheads back in high school, didn’t believe it. He hadn’t believed this was possible. For this court, which was so tilted against Teruteru from the very start, to now reverse course and acquit him.

They couldn’t do anything else, though. Not with the prosecution’s arguments broken, their evidence in shambles, and that outburst. That made it clear the Black Hats were in this up to their, well, black hats.

Prosecutor Kirumi wasn’t finished yet, even though this case was concluded; she had the real culprit to go after, now. “And, might I say, it’s all thanks to your defense team, Hajime, Nagito, Master Byakuya. Congratulations.”

Shuichi smiled. “Agreed. Sorry about the whole mess, Teruteru, but… at least in the end, we were able to get closer to the truth.”

Thanks to a lot of people, and some lucky breaks, Hajime had even managed to keep that stupid promise he made at the start of this insanity.

With a unanimous vote, and the blessings of the prosecution, it was over.

They’d won.

The Exisals were _kind_ enough to let loose another nearly deafening barrage of fireworks. In a damn enclosed space. Hajime didn’t even care that he’d probably lost like ten percent of his hearing, he was too elated, too thrilled, and only just now coming down off the adrenaline high of that emotional roller-coaster of a case.

University students kind of expected to lose most of their hearing, anyhow.

They even had confetti and streamers, drifting through the air in a multicolored barrage to go with a light show. The central digital screen displayed the characters for **‘NOT GUILTY’** bold and bright.

Given the chaos just before, there wasn’t a ton of fanfare, but there was some cheering. Particularly from Makoto and Sayaka, who went crazy to show their support. And to try and cheer up Kyouko, who had resumed her usual calm outer demeanor but may have still regretted her slip-up. At least they still had all the facts laid out, thanks to her quick work; as far as Hajime was concerned, she was still instrumental to cracking this case open.

_I guess when you don’t make mistakes, even a small one can be devastating. Must be nice._

Teruteru cried like a baby, and cried for his _mawma_. Even though he'd won. There was profuse gratitude towards his ragtag legal team, towards the court, the Council, even Kiyo. There were hugging attempts. Some accepted, awkwardly, others rejected with force.

Teruteru looked pretty happy about that Junko-shaped boot print on his face.

It was, admittedly, a little tough to blame him for that-

_Ah well, whatever floats your boat. After today, I won’t have to care what you say or do. Hopefully._

“Just enjoy this,” Nagito advised, “For once, we got the result we wanted. In fact, Hajime… you did exactly what you said.”

“Yeah,” Chiaki agreed, joining their circle. She had a little paper hat on her head, which contrasted with her serious personality so much that it just accented what Kazuichi would have called the ‘gap moe’. “Good job.”

_Dangit, she’s seriously too cute._

Unlike Hiyoko, who was throwing a full-blown tantrum and had to be restrained at either arm by a member of Security. As she was being taken out, she calmed down, but only enough to throw an absolutely acidic look of pure hatred towards the defense table.

As well as Shuichi, who looked away immediately. Unable to meet her hateful gaze.

Hajime scoffed at the others, pretending not to realize what Shuichi must have been thinking of, and downplaying the win. Or at least his own role in it. “I just kept arguing, until Angie busted out with the truth. Assuming that even was the truth. Like Byakuya said, we weren’t here to find the ‘real culprit’, only to get Teruteru off. I know what I just said, but I don’t even care right now. If anything, that evidence you presented really started our turnabout, Nagito.”

“Ah, well, that was just a little thing,” Nagito demurred as well, rubbing the back of his fluffy white hair.

“Hardly,” Byakuya scoffed. “The timing was perfect, and the evidence was optimal. It one of the only things that could have linked Hiyoko to the situation, proven Mahiru’s testimony was unreliable, weakened the case against Teruteru, and even hinted at the complicity of those Black Hats all in one move… It was the answer to our prayers. Suspiciously so.”

“Huh?” Hajime blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s interesting that you noticed those gloves yesterday night, before we even knew there would be a trial,” Byakuya continued, fixing Nagito with a probing glare. To which Nagito just raised his hands in a placating gesture, laughing awkwardly.

“What can I say? Always be prepared. I knew something fishy was going on as soon as I got back to my senses. So I took advantage of that opportunity.”

“Took advantage,,,?” Hajime stared at him. “Nagito, those gloves…”

“Kiibo verified that I found them, and he’s no liar,” Nagito answered, without a care in the world. If he really was cornered, he’d probably be looking more stressed out than this. Maybe. He was a really unnaturally chill guy. But in this, he was also right. Kiibo was a metal boy scout, honest to a fault. He was really was just like Makoto. If Hajime had to believe one person exactly on their words every time on this island, either of those two guys would be right up there on the list.

"Kyouko confirmed it too, with that note. I don’t think there’s any reason to cast shade like that, Byakuya.”

“Tch.” Byakuya shook his head. “Very well. Forgive me, but I cannot help it. I suspect my past is to blame, but I will never give what others may call… unconditional trust. It’s simply no longer in my nature, after what happened.”

Nagito nodded. “Oh, totally. I mean, it’s natural to think something had to be up. I mean, I stood up there in front of all the Ultimates, the symbols of the world’s hope, and actually refuted the prosecution? Despite being just a lowly human? Amazing, isn’t it?”

“I sure think so,” Teruteru confirmed, practically jumping for joy. “All three of you, just. Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you! Hajime… everyone else just assumed I’d done it. Like, a lot. Wonder why?”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Hajime replied, with a dry smile. But a smile nonetheless, for somebody who usually just annoyed the hell out of him.

“You believed in me! I could tell! I didn’t have much of any choice, but even if I did, I’d have still gone with you over like, anyone else! Because you went in from the start being like ‘Teruteru’s such a great guy! He’d never do something so horrible to everyone’!”

_That’s a little different than what really happened, but whatever._

The incident that day taught Hajime three important lessons, that he resolved to never forget.

 **One.** Merely being _right_  isn’t enough. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter even slightly. It’s all about how smart you fight. And sometimes, it’s just down to luck. Just like some are born with talent and others aren’t, so too does fate sometimes just come down.

 **Two.** Always trust Kyouko Kirigiri. Not that he needed much convincing to be grateful to his fellow amnesiac. Even with her talent revealed, she still had gaps in her memory that gave them common ground to stand on. Somehow, seeing her mess up for the first time only made him trust more in her genuine nature beneath all that sharpness.

_Kyouko. I won’t forget this. Whatever it takes, I’ll work to get the rest of your memories back just as hard as I’ll fight to get mine. Same for Rantaro. Heck, Maki, even if you don’t want me to ‘meddle’ or whatever, I’ll do it anyhow._

**Three.** never trust Angie Yonaga.

Maybe there was some hope for the others, maybe not. Hajime couldn't peer into their minds.

He just knew that the little artist girl who always smiled, and never admitted she was wrong, even when she was… there was something about her. Something he’d watch for carefully, as the days kept marching on for their island paradise.

He couldn’t really call it a ‘new lesson’ to trust Kaede and Shuichi, because they were already good friends, but the trial today was a reminder. Even if they’d disagree and argue and poke at each other about stuff, they were in this together.

No matter what!

If only Shuichi had an ahoge, he’d be a great protagonist with them and Makoto.

Oh well.


	17. 2-5c. Sorry This Chapter Isn't Better (Mikan)

Some stories are important. Of course they’ll be told throughout history.

Some stories aren’t. Because they only star trashy pigshits who are better off dead.

This story? Unfortunately, it’s being told from the _perspective_ of pig barf. But really, it’s about something better! In fact, it’s about something as fundamental to life as love itself. Hopefully, the reader will therefore find it useful. Or hopeful. Or enjoyable. Or at least forgivable.

Even if the source it’s coming from _isn’t_.

While it’s a shame to burden the reader with such ugly words, told in such a thoughtless, clumsy manner, this **Mikan Tsumiki, known as the Ultimate Nurse** , will now unfold the aftermath of **that certain trial**.

The certain trial where Shuichi had proven, yet again, that he couldn’t forgive them.

 _Wouldn’t_ forgive them.

Especially Mikan.

Despite what he may have thought, however, that didn’t make Mikan angry. She didn’t hate him, or want to hurt him. It was perfectly natural to despise something despicable, right? If anything, his attitude towards her now was far more healthy. He didn’t see her as some cute nurse girl who might be ‘saved’ with attention and friendship. Instead, he had contempt and hatred for her deep within his heart, like most people.

Though his attempts to ‘save’ her were doomed from the start, she was still grateful. Her offer that day in the hospital hadn’t just been idle talk, after all. Shuichi could have had literally anything he wanted, and she would have been glad to give it. Mikan knew all the Black Hats felt the same way, even Angie.

It’s just, Shuichi wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was a pretty brilliant guy. All the Ultimate Detective needed was a peek beneath the surface, at the rotten core of a hopeless bitch, to recognize that Mikan was too far gone.

He had, naturally, recoiled in horror.

Could Mikan get angry at the sun for rising and falling?

It didn’t make Shuichi bad or wrong. It just meant he was like everyone.

This silly, foolish lovelorn woman wouldn’t have anything but despair. If it wasn’t for **three people**. If it wasn’t for Shuichi’s kindness once… and now, the kindness of two others. Somebody who protected her, and somebody who forgave her. In fact, That person forgave Mikan, even if she didn’t deserve it.

**Her beloved.**

It didn’t matter what Mikan did, or said, or was. What she failed to do. The ways in which she lacked as a person. The things she did wrong.

 **Angie Yonaga** didn’t care about any of that. **Tenko Chabashira** protected her, cared for her, and fought for her.

Mikan was forgiven by Her and her, and by Atua, as well.

Once, Mikan could only cry herself to sleep, completely alone in this world. She’d clung to every tiny scrap of human interaction. And make no mistake, Mikan had been shaped into the kind of person she was by countless human relationships.

She had so many people to _thank_ for instructing her, over, and over, and over, and over, and over, about the truth of this world.

About the truth of despair.

Mikan wanted to **thank** each one of them properly, in time.

She’d thank them until _**they fucking died.**_

And their families, and their friends, and this _**entire worthless world.**_

After all, hunters had to be careful! _Lest they become the hunted._

Ahem.

This story isn’t about despair!

Maybe another her, in another time, would have gone further down that path then this Mikan could ever have imagined, but nope. That was over. The urge to drown this world in despair was itself drowned out by something greater. Something more sacred. Or at least, while despair would always be a part of Mikan Tsumiki, much as everyone had blood… hope was now part of Mikan’s system, as well.

It circulated alongside the despair, comforting her that this wasn't all to life. The slings, arrows, contempt, and hatred she could rely on from others, couldn’t get to her anymore.

As long as Atua was watching over her, then Mikan was chosen.

Elect.

She didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves Atua’s love in the first place. There was not one righteous man, not one. Not one Mikan had ever met, certainly. But they all got Atua’s mercy anyway, because he was a loving god.

Just as Angie forgave her, so did Atua.

Atua had to exist, because Atua forgave Mikan. So Mikan believed with all the force in her rotting heart.

Atua loved Mikan, and Mikan loved him right back. Tenko loved Mikan, and Mikan loved her right back. Angie loved Mikan, and Mikan loved Her right back.

Mikan could sleep at night, wrapped up tight in her new belief. The intensity of it could only be described in one way. It was something she’d read about constantly, heard other people talk about.

It was **love!**

Only **love.**

Mikan was only alive now because of **love.**

That was why Mikan did whatever Angie wanted. It wasn’t some sad girl’s attempt to keep somebody’s attention. It wasn’t the desperation of a pigshit trying not to be forgotten. Even if the attention she got was painful. That part of her was over now. This was just pure gratitude, affection, love… attraction.

So you see, Mikan Tsumiki was okay!

Or at least, one day she _would_ be okay.

She could _see_ okay on the horizon, and knew it would come one day for her. That one day, she wouldn’t have to hate herself. One day, she could lay down her burdens. She was closer to okay then Mikan Tsumiki had ever known. She was so grateful, down to the core of her being.

Altering medical records was nothing.

Making sure Hiyoko got out of the hospital with that bottle was nothing.

Using her body to vanquish Tenko’s silly doubts in the plan, and in Angie?

Nothing.

Even learning that the Chihiro Fujisaki, her f-f-f-friend, because Mikan now deserved those, was a guy? Nothing.

Mikan loved him, too. She expressed her love in oh so many ways. Yes, of course, physically. A lot. But emotionally too. Every one of Her followers was important in this world. By their black hats they’d adopted from poor Shuichi’s example, they showed themselves as apart.

Better than.

Angie’s wishes were too important to jeopardize.

Even when the Black Hats all ended up arrested, that was nothing, too.

Mikan was less alone now, sitting in a jail cell, then she was surrounded by ‘friends’ in class back in high school. Family and friends had never mattered to her, never been real. This was her family and her friends now.

They could execute her tomorrow, and her only regret would be never again seeing, and being of use, to her two beloved people. To hold her close, and receive Her love and forgiveness.

Of course, no execution order came. It was just a silly little incident, after all. Just a way to loosen up everyone in the wake of all those nasty revelations about Mukuro’s lab; the guns and all that. And maybe open their minds, hearts, and bodies to Atua’s love. Could the supposed ‘new government’ really scorn them for that?

Mikan was about to find out.

The first visitor she got was none other than Angie’s well-known enemy, _that Kaede Akamatsu_.

In spite of opposing Angie, and tempting Shuichi away with her schemes, Mikan had to admit, Kaede was pleasant enough. She even gave Mikan a gift once, despite Mikan not deserving it.

There were few things nicer than a lot of fresh bandages.

She was definitely trying to put on a nice expression whenever they talked, to cover up how disturbing Mikan was to her. It was difficult, of course, but the fact that she put in the effort, for Mikan’s sake, mattered way more than the fact that she couldn’t totally hide her disgust.

“Hey, Mikan,” Kaede said, voice cautious, but also full of concern. It was possible she didn’t visit people in prison all that often.

“H-Hello, Kaede,” Mikan replied, averting her gaze, making her posture and tone as submissive as possible.

“How’re you doing in here?” Kaede asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“Unless you can convince them to put us all in the same cell, th-then, please don’t trouble yourself,” Mikan replied timidly. “Erm, um. It’s only been like, an hour?”

“Huh.” Kaede checked her Hope Pad. “That’s right. You must be really good at telling time, Mikan!”

Mikan sheepishly took out her own Hope Pad from the pockets on her nurse’s apron. “S-Since these control access to our rooms, Mukuro didn’t want to bother taking them away just to give them all back.” Not to mention they were still going by the conceit that the Black Hats weren’t prisoners, but just witnesses.

Witnesses who were not permitted to leave the unbreakable prison cells they were forced into entering, under threat of violence.

“Oh, I see.” Kaede faked a cough. “Look. Mikan, I…” She threw up her hands. “I think you might be the person I can talk to the easiest. Out of your group.”

“T-T-The weak link, huh? I get that a lot.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!” Kaede put her hands on her hips. “Look, just… hear me out.”

“I d-don’t have much of a choice, ehehe.”

“Guess not. So. This whole thing has gotten way out of hand. I’m worried it’s gonna start forming some really bad grudges, and that’s stupid. This whole thing has been stupid!”

“W-Would it make you feel better if I took off my clothes-”

“No! If you want to do ‘anything’ for me, then tell me what happened! Tell me the truth, so I can tell everyone else, and we can make a decision, and be done with this whole dumb thing!” Kaede sounded very exasperated. Perhaps the Council meeting afterwards wasn’t going too well? Mikan knew there were all sorts of internal divides in their group, as different clashing personalities tried to work together.

A problem the Black Hats avoided, of course. There was just one voice that united them all, and directed them towards whatever Atua desired. Her voice. Mikan squeezed her eyes shut, and clutched her chest with bandaged hands. “T-The truth is whatever Angie tells you.”

“Angie!” Kaede scoffed, doubtless due to her jealousy. “Great idea, Mikan, let’s start there. Why did she decide that drugging everyone was a good idea?!”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume to speak for Angie. Y-You would need to ask Her yourself.”

“You all promised that nobody would get hurt,” Kaede huffed. “Were those just empty words? Did what you guys have with Shuichi really not mean anything?!”

“I don’t believe the aphrodisiacs h-h-hurt anybody? Um, physically, anyway.”

“Many of us have made memories we’ll never forget,” Kaede sighed. “And not in the good way. Do you really think what happened was okay?! Are you cool with how things happened?”

“I wouldn't dare to presume-”

“Mikan! I’m asking you, as a person. If you have any regrets about the way things went, or if you want to help Shuichi, now’s the time! He’s sitting in a cell right now along with all the other potential witnesses, you know.”

“H-He is?”

“He insisted.” Kaede sighed, rubbing at her temple with a white sleeve. “Kaito is beginning to rub off on him, especially after that… stew incident where they were together.” She shook her head. “I just need to know exactly what was done, and by who. We’re questioning everyone else, anyhow. If you talk, then I can guarantee I’ll get you out of here.”

“Y-You’re willing to release a member of the Black Hats, just like that?”

“I don’t actually _want_ you in jail! I don’t want to see _anybody_ in jail, at all! No, it’s more than that, Mikan. We need to avoid becoming the kind of place that puts people in jail. With this small of a group, if we start that ball rolling, if we really let this keep going on, then… Then before long, it’ll feel normal. If you do something wrong, or even if you do something we don’t like, it’s right into the brig. Validating Kokichi’s stupid theories isn’t something I feel like spending my time doing.”

Mikan wasn’t being stubborn for the sake of it. Or even because she expected it would change anything, or protect herself. Certainly not that last one. She just didn't want to take the chance of messing up again, and letting something slip that Angie hadn’t already. If Angie wanted her followers to keep quiet, and experience being locked away to help strengthen their faith, then that had to be good enough for Mikan.

Shuichi and Mahiru weren’t part of this whole thing, though. That was a different thing. Was there anything Mikan could say to help _them_ , without giving away anything Angie wanted to keep quiet about?

“I c-can at least say that Shuichi, and Mahiru, both… h-had nothing to do with anything,” Mikan admitted finally, gaze still cast aside. “I don’t know if Mahiru was trying to cover up for Hiyoko, or what happened, but we never worked together or anything like that. P-Please believe me.”

Kaede nodded. “I do. Huh. You know, Chihiro said the same thing when I went to visit her, too.”

“W-We’re telling the truth…!” Mikan squeaked.

“You probably are.” Kaede shook her head. “I wonder if Angie will be willing to just come clean, for your sake.”

Kaede just didn’t _get_ it.

She maybe never would.

“Um. I’m sorry if this is out of line.” Mikan shook her head. “I’ll p-pray for you, Kaede.”

“Huh? You’ll pray for me, while you’re in the Brig?”

“Y-Yes, if you’re okay with it.”

“Well, it can’t do any harm. If you think it’ll help, then go for it, Mikan. Pray to Atua, and ask him to make his followers, I dunno. More willing to get along. To go with the flow rather than causing these weird incidents!” Kaede sighed. “Sorry. If you want to pray for me, go ahead. I’ll… see you later, Mikan. Thanks for being honest.”

“T-Thank you for coming to visit me, even in this situation, Kaede! I’m truly grateful.”

_Even if you just did it to pry information out of me._

_That’s fine, it’s no worse than how I’m normally treated. I can still be grateful even for that much attention, even for that reason. I just don’t have to cling to it in desperation anymore._

_Not now that I have Atua with me. And Tenko, and Angie, Chihiro… and the others, the ones on the fence. Gonta and Kiibo were clearly moving over to our side during the trial, no wonder they were… detained as well._

Time stretched on. The trial had started promptly after breakfast, and lunch had to be delivered in their cells.

Mikan definitely hadn’t expected to be delivered her food by a celebrity, though. “M-M-Miss Maizono?!”

Sayaka favored her with an award-winning smile, and a tray full of food. “Hello, Mikan. Teruteru was so happy to be exonerated, he’s going to be making feasts all day. And he specifically asked for somebody to take some over to you guys, too. Just to show there’s no hard feelings.”

Both of them could feel what Teruteru would have said about ‘hard feelings’, so no further joke was necessary.

Mikan just accepted the food gratefully, moving to the edge of her cell, where Sayaka had placed the tray. This certainly was no processed fare; it was up to Teruteru’s normal, excellent standards. If not exceeding them. Mikan had to admit, as whimsical as it was, she could definitely taste the ‘feeling of freedom’ in Teruteru’s roast beef and mashed potatoes, all slathered with gravy.

Sayaka hovered, to take Mikan’s tray when she was done with it. “Are you doing okay in here? Eating off the floor?”

“Ehe.” Mikan giggled. “I’m used to it. At least, I’ve had to do this a few times in the past, during high school. You know, the usual.”

It clearly hadn’t been Sayaka Maizono’s ‘usual’, just from the look on her face. She did a much better job hiding her discomfort than Kaede did, being a trained performer, and thus a trained liar. Even so, the two of them lived in such different worlds. Even making small talk back and forth seemed like an impossible wall to scale, given their differences.

“I-I’m sorry they made you deliver this lovely food, Miss Maizono. Especially to somebody like me. I know w-we must not be too, uh, popular right now.”

Sayaka shrugged, sending waves of deep blue hair all over. “Some people are quite angry, but I’m definitely not among them. I mean, honestly? Yesterday was a whole lot of fun, thanks to you guys.”

After all these recriminations, harsh stares, blame, and other things the heathens heaped on her. Mikan was actually shocked ot hear somebody who enjoyed the Incident. She was glad enough to let out a sigh, even as she ate. Well, Teruteru’s dishes were dangerously addictive anyhow. When he warned you ‘your body won’t be able to live without me’ anymore, he wasn’t just quoting bad doujins, he was telling the truth about his Ultimate ability.

It could perhaps be seen as unfortunate that ability had led to him being implicated, even if all that song and dance had to be part of Angie’s greater plan.

At least he wasn’t going to get wrapped up any further in things.

“I know,” Sayaka nodded. “Say what you will, I didn’t believe he did it, and I’m glad he was cleared of the charges.”

“Eeek!” Mikan recoiled in surprise.

_W-Were the rumors true-_

“It was all over your face,” Sayaka explained, giggling gently into her hand in the most feminine way. Delicate and refined, a lifetime’s work, a work of art in human form. The opposite of the pig barf sitting on the cold asphalt ground of this prison cell. “That’s how I knew. I’m not actually psychic.”

_Denying it like that only makes y-you more suspicious!_

_I’d better be careful, or I’ll end up giving even more away. Like how Angie instructed Alter Ego to edit out Hiyoko from all the footage!_

“I see,” Sayaka sighed. “It’s sad to see such an amazing development like AI used for that kind of thing, but oh well. We kiiind of figured that out already, so don’t worry about giving it away.”

‘I k-knew it!” Mikan quivered, holding her head. “P-Please, Miss Maizono! For your own sake, d-d-don’t look any deeper!” She rocked back and forth. “D-Don’t taint your purity with my filthy thoughts!”

“Purity, huh?” Sayaka finally allowed her smile to drop. “I wish. Like I said, I really… enjoyed all the things we all got up to during the Incident. I have you guys to thank. Not to mention, I know what it’s like to have somebody who always forgives you, too. That person… saved me. Bringing the food is just part of my offering to your group, since we’re so similar. Maybe the other part could involve me… coming to the next service Angie holds?”

Mikan couldn’t believe it.

The potential benefits to converting somebody like Sayaka, so close to so many, so beloved throughout the island, and even the world outside?

W-Well, the parts that weren’t trying to lynch her?

Everyone was going to be thrilled!

Mikan was so blown away, she could barely remember to agree. “C-C-Certainly, Miss Maizono! All are welcome during our services, e-especially people who are curious in various ways. Might I be so untoward as to presume…?”

“Oh, I’m curious,” Sayaka nodded forcefully, staring into her with new intensity. “Of course, I won’t say anything more while we’re in here, but… I’ll see you guys around.”

“C-Certainly! Thank you so much!”

Once Sayaka collected the tray and dirty utensils, she took her leave with a nice little bow. That amazing coordination was just another thing that was so cool about her! If Mikan tried that, well.

Those cameras would get one heck of a show, _ehe_. What a terrible thought~

More time ticked by. Mikan stopped bothering to check her Hope Pad, once she realized that must made time go by slower.

When Mikan's cell slid open with a _**bang**_ , she fell over in surprise.

After making a big production out of it for that camera overhead, and plentiful pitiful crying, she bumbled back up to her feet.

With nothing to stop her, the only thing to do was take her first steps in hours.

She was unsteady as she walked down the bleak, cold metal hallways. They were lit only by swaying overhead lights that alternated between spots of darkness, and blinding focus on one area. Mikan hadn't spent too long confined, that wasn't the source of the issue. It hadn't been long at all, compared to some of her stints in closets, lockers, and cabinets.

Mikan was just naturally clumsy pig-barf.

So maybe, as Shuichi figured, Mikan played it up a bit in front of people, causing both humiliation and sympathy. That still didn't mean Mikan wasn't clumsy and worthless! Unless it was stitching up a terrible wound, caring for a terminally ill patient, selecting dosages of powerful medicine, administering cures and chemicals in precise quantities, calming and soothing a patient's fears, or saving lives, Mikan was otherwise a worthless lump of meaty uselessness.

That wasn't being negative, she was just accepting reality!

After all, since Atua had come into her life, Mikan had become a lot more positive and upbeat. As the reader can clearly tell. Even other people were beginning to notice. Even if it was sad to make them pay attention to such a trashy skank.

The prison seemed like an enormous facility from the outside, and at first, Mikan was lost. However, given the number of people on this island, there weren't that may cells. Blindly bumbling about soon brought her to...

Nearly being run over by a blue, green, and black blur. Which jingled from the cat-bell on her cute pink choker.

_Whomp._

Instead of letting Tenko blather about how glad she was Mikan was okay, and swearing vengeance on degenerates, Mikan pulled her in for a forceful kiss, pressing her up against the nearest flat surface. Her plushy softness turned overwhelming for just that moment, pinning even the Ultimate Aikido Master firmly, and claiming her lips.

Once Tenko had turned completely red, Mikan let her go, careful to ensure Tenko didn't fall over. "Ehe. I'm happy to see you too, Tenko."

From their tearful reunion, you'd think the Black Hats had spent years in prison.

It had, in fact, just been hours.

Even so, Mikan couldn't deny the swell of joy in her chest when she saw Angie again. She couldn't help sweeping the smaller girl up into her arms. And greeting Her with the same fire and passion she gave to Tenko. Angie received it in a more experienced manner, letting Mikan pick Her up, and wrapping Her legs around the nurse's waist securely. Chihiro watched on, awestruck by the wanton display, while Tenko's expression turned hard.

Just for a moment, as she probably tried to hide it and turn it back into something more neutral or happy, but that smile didn't reach her eyes. Mikan was familiar with that, since she often smiled without meaning it too.

They'd have to sort that out later.

But for now, all of them were free!

"Angie, we've got to talk about-" Chihiro was shushed with a finger on his lips, causing his rosy cheeks to burn.

Angie was so smooth~ “Not here," she said playfully, even if she certainly wasn't kidding. "Remember what you told me on the way in. Every inch of this place is 'wired up', so let's wait until we're home free!"

Kyouko led them out of prison personally.

Her expression was a careful mask of neutrality, and she wasn't in any mood to talk. Her light-purple hair swayed to and fro as she glanced backwards regularly, for some reason. Her eyes, a deeper purple, glinted occasionally off the grim overhead lighting. Her long coat and short skirt clashed, because a lot of things about Kyouko didn't quite make sense, but that was definitely none of Mikan's business.

Just a useful thing to note, like the moment she'd shown weakness during the trial. Just in case. Know thy enemy! It would be more important than ever to make sure they had good relations, in various ways, with Miss Maizono.

The stonefaced Ultimate Detective stopped at the front gates and looking up at the camera to nod. Whoever was in the control room let them free. Angie waved to the camera cheerfully as she led them out.

None of the Council, nor Kaito, were there to see them off, or talk about anything.

While they'd evidently struck a that deal to avoid lengthy brig sentences, and Angie had talked, there was still bound to be some annoyance both ways.

Mikan certainly wouldn't have held it against them if they'd just captured her, but treating the other Black Hats like criminals just because they'd done a crime? Beyond the pale.

Something Mikan would remember.

Mikan had a very good memory.

As they walked back to Angie's cabin, everyone remained in high spirits. After all, despite everything, the incident yesterday had been a big success. Miss Maizono was proof of that, and there was no way she was the only one who, deep down, really enjoyed what happened.

A lot of the Ultimates had done things they'd have never contemplated while sober. They were back to their 'senses' now, but there was no way an event like that just happened, and never mattered again. Kaede wasn't kidding about those memories, and how they wouldn't be forgetting them even if they wanted to. More than that, it could mean a sea change.

Even if just a little, they'd opened a door to an entire new, wonderful world with that World-Class Stew.

A world the Black Hats, and others, had already gone ahead to explore. They really liked the world of pleasures they’d found within~ Yes, that door wouldn't swing back closed once it had opened for everyone. Yes, Mikan really was so uncreative that she had to use metaphors about doors and stuff.

Apologies, honored reader.

Naturally, most of the official attention and pressure had focused on Angie during their stay. It was sad for _that Kaede_ to let her jealousy affect her that much, but oh well. Nobody was perfect, yet they could all still be forgiven.

Maybe in time, even _that Kaede_ would walk Atua's path, and see Angie's wisdom.

Maybe even Shuichi would return to them!

_Atua, all I can do is pray that you help them see the truth._

At least now, instead of her endless, interminable dumb thoughts and observations, this Mikan could unfold to you the conversation with somebody very important, Angie herself.

Angie had plenty of time to think in between all the interviews, meetings, and threats. Even though She did eventually give in, it was obviously only to protect Her followers. Which was always on Angie’s mind. Avoiding lingering grudges was a good idea, too. So Angie had told them the plan, including the specific details.

Like how Byakuya had helped them cover up the evidence, just to ‘make things more interesting’. He was certainly one to watch, going forward. Shuichi and Mahiru were released without further incident, thankfully. As were Gonta and Kiibo, who obviously had nothing to do with anything, with Kirumi’s sincere apologies.

While this issue was concluded without anyone being locked away for good, there was probably more chaos coming on the horizon for everyone.

Mikan didn't know what form that might take.

It probably involved those guns. Or whoever took them.

But with Atua’s blessing, she’d be ready! After all, she _was_ the Ultimate Nurse. If somebody got badly injured, she’d be there for them, always. No matter what.

"I'm so proud of you all! You proved that if we stay together, and our hearts and minds are pure, we can accomplish anything!"

"It was all your idea to begin with," Tenko waved Her praise off.

"Ah ah." Angie wagged Her finger. "As I said, Atua was the one who gave me the inspiration to carry this out. Never forget to be grateful to Atua first, Tenko. I'm merely his humble vessel."

"R-Right! Of course! Ha ha... ha..."

Mikan reached down, and took one of Tenko's hands in her own. The gesture was meant to calm her down. Even if it had the opposite effect, flaring up her Big Gay Disaster levels to new heights.

It _was_ very cute, at least.

"We're not just helping people, we're changing the way people look at the world, bit by bit!" Angie swayed back and forth in delight. "Sooo. I'm thinking it's time we make some progress on our end, too."

"Progress?" Chihiro asked, tapping his chin.

"In short, Atua has told me that everyone on the island wears way too much clothing!" Ah, this was a familiar subject for Angie, she'd held forth on all the silly clothing covering people up for a while now. It wasn't like anybody was going to disagree, but the Black Hats had a lot of... social anxiety gathered together.

It was a group that included Mikan, how else could it be?

Angie didn't just want to talk about this, though. She was set on her path forward. "We need to lead the island by example, and show them that the silly Council isn't the only leadership. Not to mention, I think everyone is way more comfortable in their own skin than you used to be. Sooo. I say, let’s try wearing just swimsuits, every day! Like Angie does!"

Oh, wow. It really was the next phase.

_A-Am I ready for that kind of thing?_

Mikan blushed deeply, just trying to imagine it. She had flashbacks to the Ultimate Beach Party on their very first day on the island. That felt like a lifetime ago, even if it hadn't even been three full weeks yet. She'd been swept up into a whirlwind, a typhoon.

A typhoon named Angie, who didn't take 'no' for answer.

Maybe the reader thinks it’s silly or dumb to hesitate on this point, given everything Mikan had done, and would do, for all her fellow followers with no hesitation. The key was in her changed perspective. Now, she wasn’t trading her body and dignity away for attention, but instead… it belong to others in the Black Hats. Not for everyone.

Yet, if Angie wanted it… "I'm n-nervous, but... if you think it's for the best, Angie, I can... try?"

Tenko had been about to object for various silly reasons, but she couldn't very well do that now, could she? Instead, she gave a big, fake laugh. "Haha! That's the brave Mikan I've come to admire so much! I knew you'd be up for it! Naturally, Tenko has no objections, either! She will defend you all from any pervy _m-_ maladjusted people who try to take advantage of the situation! _Especially if they’re male!"_

So close, Tenko. At least you’re trying to change, too. I am really proud of that, and that you haven’t broken Chihiro in half.

For all that talk about ‘exterminating awful boys’ before, when she’d come face to face with Chihiro and learned of that situation, then, well. Tenko was in fact, at her core, a good person. She protected the weak, rather than beat them up. She was somebody whose character could possibly be admired.

Very much unlike Mikan herself, of course.

Chihiro took longer to reply, deep in thought as they walked back to Hotel 53. No wonder, given his situation. He still wasn't 'out' to anyone but the members of the Black Hats. Even Shuichi didn't seem like he'd figured it out. It was the kind of step Chihiro might have wanted to take, but to actually go for it...

He probably wasn't ready, poor thing-

"... Okay."

Angie was so delighted to get his agreement, She tackled him. Unlike Mikan's firm, steady, meaty base thanks to her big dumb fat, though, Chihiro was beautiful and slender. Despite being a guy, he was a much better girl than Mikan could ever hope to be, so thin and delicate. Of course, it made him easy to knock down.

They nearly rolled over into the irrigation canals beneath the hotel!

"I mean, um. If Mikan can do it," Chihiro sighed, fighting back tears. "Then I'll try, too! We just need to pick some really reasonable swimsuits. Nothing like what the Fashion Alliance got up to lately."

"Thaaat won't be a problem." Angie giggled. "A condition of our deal was that Tsumugi is now totally off-limits. In fact, I'm literally not even allowed to speak to her anymore! Junko was very emphatic about that."

"T-That's absurd," Mikan squeaked. "She can't do that! You have rights!"

"On this island, the only rights are the ones that the Council acknowledges," Angie shook her head. "It's sad, but Junko isn't wrong. They're too powerful for now. And they clearly don't care about 'rights', or ‘freedoms’, or anything Junko kept going on about during the election. For example, Kyouko was obviously monitoring everything that happened in each cell, recording it, and going over it. Totally without even asking us!"

At least Mikan hadn't given them anything, really. She had faith the others had held firm, as well. Even Tenko was strong, despite her nervousness and hyperactive energy.

They were unbreakable, in their faith.

"Good deeds should be done quickly, isn't that the saying?~" Angie giggled. "Let's go to the Supermarket right away, and start... trying things on."

Everyone knew where that was going to lead.

Nobody had to say a word. Not to agree to Angie's plans, for Angie was their leader. Their spiritual leader, the leader of the group, the one who got to decide things. Because of Her connection to Atua, of course.

That was the voice that guided them.

**Just Angie.**

Mikan would have to think about what kind of design she could get away with wearing. Especially one that would provoke Tenko to unleash some of that hyperactive energy on her... _ehe_.

That was the Incident resolved, though it was never forgotten.

Peace, of a sort, returned to the island. Even though those weapons were still at large, and everyone needed a 'buddy' on the new 'buddy system', Mikan wasn't afraid. They'd taken another step forward.

The Black Hats, as well as the Ultimates as a whole. Whether or not they realized it yet, or acknowledged it yet, they’d all follow Angie’s leadership. All in due time.

Surely, the readers _wouldn't_ be interested in hearing about all of them trying on swimsuits together, giving each other a lot of stimulating feedback, helping each other in the changing rooms after they'd been apart for what felt like an eternity.

Especially with Mikan as the protagonist. After all, sexy stories weren't very good if they starred pig barf. So, it'll be better to end it here, on a high note.

Praise Atua!

Peace be with you all. And hopefully you, too, reading this at home, find somebody who forgives you. Somebody who will give you the most important thing in the world.

The only thing that matters.

Something that will sustain you through any challenge, and get you through this cruel, miserable world.

**It's love!**


	18. 2-7a. Scorn (Touko)

Some girls might have enjoyed a bunch of guys meddling in their affairs.

 **Touko Fukawa, the Ultimate Writing Prodigy,** even wrote about such scenarios with all the passion and delusion in her heart!

Yet, she never thought it could happen to her!

Not in real life, anyway. Real life tended to be messy and disappointing and decidedly not-dramatic. Until it was.

First, that **Makoto**. Spiky brown hair seemed to be a common trait among bothersome males. Definitely the spiky part. With the weird antennae, quite accurately named ‘idiot hair’. Makoto’s big dumb smile wouldn’t fade, no matter how often Touko told him to _k-k-kill himself_ and that his sister was _probably a flaming lesbian_ anyhow.

 _Don’t ask how Touko knew that_ , she just had a radar for that kind of thing!

In spite of Touko’s best efforts, the two had become something which might approach friends. Mostly because he wouldn’t stop politely offering gifts and talking about his feelings. He even treated her with respect.

_Ugh. What a wimp._

He went out to the New World Library with her a number of times. How original. The Ultimate Writing Prodigy never thought of that before. Honestly, it was probably the best he could do. Trying to get creative or fancy was not this boy’s strong suit. At least he was capable of recognizing the situations, gifts, and responses she hated the least. A little like she was training a good-natured puppy in how not to annoy her as much.

Not to mention, of all of them, he probably inspired her back to writing the most, helping her clear her writer's blocks and mental logjams one after the other. That was a pretty critical good thing to have in a... friend.

It was something, but that spineless type of man who let a woman boss him around, instead of the other way around, was just no good.

 **H-Hajime** was another can of worms. He was so misunderstood. Because he couldn’t remember some things and people looked at him weird when he stared at girls. Oh, and people said mean things to him in high school, that’s never happened to anyone before. Therefore, that meant he was just as oppressed as s-she was. He could totally relate to her alienation from society, both at home and on the island, right?

Wrong!

It was kind of refreshing to get told off by him, though. Touko had to admit, her idea of a strong man definitely included being willing to tell a girl she was just wrong, or acting dumb. E-Even maybe sometimes, when she wasn’t, but just to test if she was properly loyal to him.

Like what **Master** did.

_Ehe._

_Ehehehehehe._

Hajime didn’t take it as far as abusive behaviors. Which was a shame, honestly. Not that he had any chance against Master’s regal upbringing and stern attitude, but he certainly wasn’t bad looking. Strong, piercing eyes, that voice set to make a girl melt when he got firm and decisive or started yelling, like during the trial. Thin, youthful, but with some wiry muscle under all that. He picked up on the signals she was sending, too. Especially all the negative, hateful, spiteful ones.

Touko expected nothing but mockery when she finally admitted that she had an _important somebody_ back home. Not a human, though. Of course, she had nothing resembling a family anymore.

Her _pet stink bug_ was still with her in spirit, though.

Hey! **Kameko** didn’t give her up, let her down, or run around and hurt her!

_Not like **boys** always did._

Yet, Hajime just nodded. As if he’d expected such a pathetic result. That hurt. It wasn’t surprising, because like everyone Hajime clearly hated her. But still! To have that impression so rudely reinforced was tough on a delicate young maiden.

That, or that probably-traitor with missing memories had the gall to pity her. Touko wouldn’t forgive that at all!

Speaking of memory loss, it was a recurring theme. Hell, everyone had some of it, and it was obvious inflicted, almost certainly by that Usami. Even Touko was missing a bit of herself, she felt it constantly. Even if the exact shape of it remained… murky. Undefined. Hazy.

This was all like a cliched backstory for characters from some dumb video game. Tch, video games. Dreck for the modern age, just like anime and manga. If there was ever some type of bastardized ‘visual novel’ in an anime style about murder mysteries, it wouldn’t be worth the palest shadow of Sherlock Holmes, or any of the old greats.

A-Anyway.

That green-haired pretty-boy **Rantaro** had come by her Lab a few times. He claimed to want to check out her work, and borrowed some of the books from her suitably, wonderfully creepy old library. He couldn’t be interested in either her as a person, or her work, of course. That was as certain as the striking white-blue striped pattern of his shirt.

So that had to be a cover story of some kind. Touko was certain of it, but could never get a read on him, at all.

He even defeated her normally-foolproof gaydar.

He claimed to have more advanced memory loss than everyone else. Like more of his memories were taken, even his Ultimate talent. Touko didn't know whether it was possible to believe that or not, but the safer bet was to assume he was running a scheme.

Hell, there wasn’t any reason in this world to assume he wasn’t in on it all, or even running this whole show as some kind of… mastermind!

… It was nice to indulge her malnourished girly side, as absurd as it was to paint up a pig. She let him do her nails. He was careful, had a good eye for details, was fashionable. Things Touko lacked. She had to rely on him for what colors and types of paint were optimal. Given he could borrow from that Ultimate Fashion Alliance as well as the Supermarket, he was able to do remarkable things with her nails.

All while holding her hands, calm and steady, speaking in that low, deep voice.

Okay, maybe he was devastatingly hot, with that wavy permanent sex-hair, his obvious experience in all sorts of ways with girls, how in-touch he was with his emotions will still being an ominous, vaguely threatening mysterious guy that was also prone to the occasional dramatic wallslam.

Touko never denied he was panty-melting! E-Even if her loyalty could only be to Master, still, so it was useless to go after her.

One time, they went out together. At R-Rantaro’s insistence of course, to the movies. Sounds great, right? Or at least it would, to anyone who didn’t have Touko’s mental hangups. The idiot didn’t even realize he was digging up some seriously unpleasant memories, and his beautiful, tight ass was treading on very thin ice, until afterwards.

At least it had gone differently than...

That time.

It wasn’t a walk in the park, though.

To their horror, they found the theater was stocked, exclusively, with **bad old movies**.

Not even bad modern ones, like the trendy schlock hoisted on the sheeple of society. The mindless eaters, the useless mooching consumers who gave back nothing to this world. Not even specks of dust. At least there would have been some entertainment to be found in a Michael Bay explosion.

Nope. Just the kind of fare one would expect to find in a not too distant future, somewhere in time and space, on a satellite full of miserable people orbiting high above the Earth.

Huh, maybe that was the Ultimates. Maybe this was Usami’s dark, sinister plot all this time.

To force them to watch bad movies.

Diabolical.

The dumb rabbit vanished right as her plots were coming to fruition, though!

Touko had to admit, it was like a stress valve venting off steam to become a caustic critic and rip apart some bad movies. It was like she was born for that role, and she enjoyed it. Even when she was with other people and would normally feel like dying or killing or whatever. S-She didn’t do crowds well.

Or boys and dates, usually. Rantaro was just weird like that.

Hopefully he stopped poking around, before hidden, locked-away passions got inflamed again. Touko had to keep herself under a tighter control than the wild, romantic years of her youth.

_S-Stop laughing at me, reader! I know you are..._

Last, but not least, there was a boy giving her very conflicting feelings. That was **Shuichi** , of course.

He was the only person on this miserable island, aside from Master of course, whom Touko had told various things to. Important things. The reason she got into writing romance, the reason she didn’t trust people, especially boys. That incident back when she was a kid. Where her heart had been shattered into a million tiny pieces. From which it still had never recovered.

The cause of various things, and a lot of suffering.

The blue-haired beanpole was too understanding for his own good. Both in the kindness sense, and because he picked up on things fast.

He was also passive, which meant he didn’t strike back even when Touko could get aggressive. On occasion. When she put her foot into her mouth and implied he should leave her alone forever and die. Minor mistakes, but ones Shuichi always brushed past. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being insulted, like that Chef, or thought he necessarily deserved it all, like… a certain white-haired boy we’ll fucking get to in a second.

To Touko, it just felt like he had no pride to injure. Attacks on it just bounced right the hell off.

Implying he was a failure, a loser, and couldn’t save his friends got more of a rise out of him? And insulting that dumbass hat he always wore, the one the Black Hats stole from him as a fashion symbol? That got some real fire in his belly, for once. Especially the hat thing, talk about touchy. On the one hand, it was good to know he was capable of raising his voice to an uppity woman, but even Touko had to admit, his stance was… extreme.

Obviously covering up some kind of trauma, but whatever. Who wasn’t on this insane island? The only people who were ‘fine’ were just pretending, anyhow!

Shuichi was happy to hang out in Touko’s library, especially after his little breakup with his fwends. He didn’t exactly get a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Touko had never had friends, so she couldn’t relate to his harem drama. However, she could understand being kicked out of a group, used by people who pretended to be friendly.

So she softened on him a bit, after that, and they hung out. So what.

He even went out with her a few times to various places on the island. Unlike Rantaro or Makoto, it didn’t feel like their supposed ‘date spots’ were calculated. Or at least, it wasn’t anything simple. Shuichi brought her out to that private beach once. Another time, they walked through the forests in the islands, to reach a lookout point gazing over the sea. He took her to his own Lab.

The poisons and stuff were cool, but Touko had to be careful there. Needles and sharp things were _not_ her thing, just like _blood_.

If nothing else, Shuichi seemed like the sort of person she could confide in. Maybe. Was anyone really trustworthy? Wasn’t everyone just a big liar, putting on a mask? Maybe Shuichi was different.

Maybe he was different from all the other guys.

As long as Shuichi could be trusted, even a little, then maybe Touko had been… wrong about some things?

Then there was that guy, **Nagito**.

She wasn’t wrong about _him_.

A beautiful, white-haired, pale, thin boy on the outside. Inside, he was cunning, intelligent, and dangerous. Touko had no clue what his deal was, except that all that happy assistant friendship bullshit was just the tool he used to get close to others, to gain a position of trust. One he’d use for whatever his true intentions were.

Maybe she saw him clearly, before nearly anyone else on this island, because she was (rightfully!) paranoid. Maybe Master’s hostility towards him was a sign of this guy’s inner darkness. Whatever.

While others still smiled and waved at him, and treated him like a friend, Touko knew to keep away.

Until one day, she found him sitting in her Ultimate Lab, and ignoring him became impossible.

Touko yelled, but he kept cool as a cucumber, like always. Even at times a normal person would grow upset, he just didn’t seem to care. He just waved at her, and suggested she pull up a chair at the other end of the table he’d claimed. The table in her damn Lab…!

“Please forgive my intrusion,” Nagito sighed. “However, I’ve come to learn some rather startling things. I wanted to go to you personally about this.”

Touko bit her thumb until it nearly bled. “W-Well, I can’t really stop you since you got past the locks, somehow. S-So. Say your piece, and then get out.”

“Thank you so much, Touko. To avoid wasting your time, or mine, I have obtained certain information. From certain reliable sources. Information directly related to you, and Shuichi.”

“Huh? W-What kind of information?”

“Hmm. I could start with the files I liberated from Byakuya. Which detail the case surrounding **that infamous serial killer**.”

“W-What does that have to do with-”

“Or maybe I could begin with how I _happened_ to discover that you have a shrine dedicated to that killer. In a hidden compartment of this very building.” Nagito ruffed through his hair thoughtfully. “Believe it or not, I leaned against the right spot purely on accident. My talent sucks, but it’s very real, huh.”

“Y-You. What are you _t-talking_ about?!”

“It’s fine if you’re playing dumb. Or if you really don’t remember.” Nagito was still all smiles, despite the absurd things he was saying. Despite Touko growing visibly uncomfortable. Fidgeting, eyes beady, sweaty, until finally just she leapt out of her chair, knocking it aside. Nagito just kept on going. “Maybe the most pertinent information for you right now, is that I’m not the only one who knows.”

“W-What you’re saying! Hang on! The things you’re spouting don’t make any sense! If you’re talking about that, then… S-Shuichi investigated it for me. He didn’t find anything down there!”

Nagito took that in stride.

“I wonder why you asked him to go down there. I wonder why you were so insistent, and why you were so worried about what he might turn up. Even if you don’t realize it now, even if Usami has somehow sealed that part away… No. Some part of you must still understand. Even now. That’s the power that comes with the Ultimate Murderous Fiend.”

“W-What?!”

“There is _indeed_ a big shrine dedicated to Syo down there. Shuichi, of course, found that shrine. He decided _against_ telling you, but _did_ tell the Council, revealing that little secret.”

“.... What.”

“In other words, Shuichi knew there was something down there, something that could incriminate you. He chose not to tell you, and instead to tell his friends.”

**“... What?!”**

Nagito sighed. “That’s fine. I’ll repeat it until it sinks in. **Shuichi sold you out** , and revealed the truth. He betrayed you, smiling to your face. He stabbed you right in the back. He was never your friend, he’s just like all the other guys in your life.”

_**“WHAT IS THIS?!”** _

“ **Shuichi** knows that you are most likely  **Genocider Syo** , the fiendish serial killer!”

“Y-You… there… That’s not possible… H-He would never...”

“Of course you wouldn’t believe something so _outrageous_ , especially from a liar like me. However, I can prove it! I have the notes of that Council meeting, if you’d like to read them. Signed and sealed by Kiyo, who so kindly provided it all for the sake of making things far, far more interesting.” Nagito jovially presented a folder of papers. Police files, crime scene photos… ones awash in **blood**. “Oh, oops. Sorry, I forgot about those.”

_“Y-You son… of a bitch…”_

The world inverted.

Nothing was itself anymore.

Touko was out before she hit the floor.

When she came to, the sun was setting. Some of the old, dirty stained-glass windows had been shattered. It looked like a hurricane had whipped through the room. Old leather-bound busty books were spilled everywhere off their shelves, and wooden furniture was strewn about.

Nagito Komaeda was there, sitting over her on a chair. His face was in shadow from the brilliance of the setting sun, but his eyes shone brightly enough to overcome that. Glowering down at her with an expression of hateful malice, of true insanity.

In that moment, Touko Fukawa knew she was scared. Yet, she also knew that this man had to die.

“Welcome back, Touko. Please, don’t try to move around too much. That was a very _strenuous_ episode for _her_. And of course, if you try anything, I can show you those photos again, and _she’ll_ come right back.”

“If you know,” Touko glared up at him, trying to hide her fear. “T-Then you know that’s a bad idea, if you want to live.”

“ _Tch._ Actually, we worked out a very fruitful agreement. One you should probably know as well. It's interesting that memory truly doesn't carry over.”

“An a-a-agreement? With _her_?”

“Shuichi betrayed you. In fact, he betrayed both of you, in a very real sense. There’s no way you wouldn’t want revenge. I can give you that. Right now, the Council has decided not to take any direct action, which means there’s still time. Time enough to set things up. When the moment is right, when the opportunity presents itself… I’ll deliver him to you. I’ll give you Shuichi Saihara.”

Give… him to _her_? That was the supposed deal that they’d made?!

“Shuichi… he _w-wouldn’t_ …”

“Moreover, I’ll sweeten this deal. At that time, when you take him, then you can take me as well. I won’t resist. I’ll go joyfully!”

“Take… you? You mean…”

“There’s nothing else I could mean, and I’m totally serious. If that will seal this bargain, then it’s the very least I could possibly do. This is your chance. I wouldn’t possibly presume to say whether or not I’m in your ‘strike zone’, but even if my appearance is terrible, the person sitting before you… there’s no way you don’t hate me as well, right?”

That much was true, at least. Touko thought about going for him, but it was pointless. Nagito could just do that to her again. Not to mention, Touko wasn’t much of a fighter. Nagito looked like a stiff breeze would blow him away, but he was still a man.

_Fucking men._

_It just can’t be._

Yet, that document Nagito had… it was clear as day.

Touko was going to be sick. Her limbs felt like lead. She just laid down on the dusty, dirty hardwood floor of her own Lab, barely able to move. “Why?”

“Hm?~”

“Why could you possibly… want this? Don’t you understand?! Do you think this is some joke? Don’t you get that… people are going to die?!”

Touko had fought so long to keep it in, to get control, to stay in control and not let anything happen.

All for what?

“I won’t bore you with some speech,” Nagito promised, his eyes a swirl of insanity. “Suffice it to say, I want the killing to start. Monokuma was useless, and his agents aren’t doing anything, if they even exist. I want a powerful hope that can overcome any despair! To get that, I need to generate the biggest despair I possibly can! So it can eventually be overcome by the power of the Ultimates! What’s more horrible than a serial killer known as the Ultimate Murderous Fiend?!”

“I w-won’t be your tool…”

“Of _course_ not! Even in your sorry state, Touko, you’re still a wonderful Ultimate. I love you. Just like I love all of the Ultimates so much. That’s why I want your hope to get a fair shot, against everyone else’s hope. That’s why even you deserve a chance. A chance to serve as the **spark**. The inciting incident, so to speak.”

“Y-You’ve got to be kidding…”

“ _Hardly!_ You’ll introduce everyone here to death and despair! And once it’s started, the madness… who knows what form it could take next?! Our deaths will set in motion a plan to generate the **most possible hope**!

They’ll crush you, they’ll crush the traitors, the Ultimate Hunt… every bit of despair will be absolutely, and completely wiped out, by the end of it! It doesn't matter if they'll be the _only_ people left in this world! Only hope will reign supreme!

**_Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”_ **

Nagito spoke of 'hope' so fervently, and with that wheezing, breathless, ghoulish laugh. Touko couldn’t see anything that looked like ‘hope’. Not in his cackling expression, nor in anything about their situation.

_Master, forgive me. I c-couldn’t keep our promise._

_And you, Shuichi._ _You should have left well enough alone._

_If there’s no hope for me anymore, then there’s no hope for you, either._


	19. 2-x. To Survive III [Recovered Document]

**Future Foundation Archives**  
Interview Log ███-███-3  
November 6th, 2026

 **Interviewer:** Director Jun Kirigiri  
**Subject:** ██████ ███████, the Ultimate █████ ███████

 **Director Kirigiri:** I’m so glad you made it out of there. How are you feeling?  
██████ ███████: I’ll live, apparently. I never expected to be coming back, but… things are getting pretty crazy in there.  
**Director Kirigiri:** We’re receiving the broadcasts. What’s the status of the other students? Has anyone else been killed?  
██████ ███████: Just what happened to ██████. As far as I knew before they tried to execute me, that was it.  
**Director Kirigiri:** So, what we’re seeing on the video feed is really what’s going on in there?  
██████ ███████: Yep. That’s the point. A lesson in despair, and all that. The little stunt I pulled seemed to have put a hopeful wrench in that plan.  
**Director Kirigiri:** How did you survive ██████ ██ ████ ███████ █████?  
██████ ███████: Geeze.  
**Director Kirigiri:** Hm?  
██████ ███████: I know it’s not much of a talent, but my title as Ultimate █████ ███████ isn’t just for show, Headmas- Director. You should know, with all that research you did. Honestly, compared to other incidents, this wasn’t even risky. Well worth the effort.  
**Director Kirigiri:** Don’t tell me you provoked the Mastermind just to get a chance to escape? That’s…  
██████ ███████: I know it sounds crazy, but… they couldn’t kill me. Nobody can. Not even the Ultimate Despair. The only way I’ll ever lose my life is by my own choice.  
**Director Kirigiri:** After what happened, I guess I can’t doubt your confidence. That’s quite a change from your tone the last time we met.  
██████ ███████: Being in that wretched, hopeless situation made me realize. In fact, I… remembered what is most important in this world. My life’s goal. **A hope powerful enough to crush any despair!**  
**Director Kirigiri:** Then, ██████’s execution convinced you to return to us?  
██████ ███████: … I don’t see how that’s relevant now. Isn’t it enough that I’m going to lead you to everybody?  
**Director Kirigiri:** And here I was, winding up to give a big speech to try and convince you.  
██████ ███████: Sorry. Do you still want to make the speech?  
**Director Kirigiri:** No, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Or rather, I want to get down to business as soon as possible. After all, the Project has been moving forward in your absence. In fact, when we rescue the others, then we’ll be almost ready.  
██████ ███████: Ready?  
**Director Kirigiri:** To take you to the **new world** , so to speak.  
██████ ███████: No way. You’ve managed to clear all the obstacles?  
**Director Kirigiri:** Almost all. I’m not going to let you all down again. We’ve failed the Ultimates too many times. At least now, at the **twilight of the human race** , we can make up for it all. It’s really more like we’re just pushing all of our expectations onto you.  
██████ ███████: Sheesh. You know that just being Immune isn’t enough, right? I mean, I’m not gonna last much longer regardless. What’s even the point of putting me in?  
**Director Kirigiri:** After today, let’s just say you earned a place at the table by bringing back the others. And leave it at that.  
██████ ███████: Haha, that kind of weak reasoning is generous and selfish all at once.  
**Director Kirigiri:** **This world** has precious little time. I think at the end, I’m allowed a bit of selfish hope.  
██████ ███████: Is that why Kyouko happened to get selected, too?  
**Director Kirigiri:** As long as she survives to hate me for being a hypocrite, that’ll suit me just fine. Hell, as long as there are people around to criticize my decision, it means I’ve won.  
██████ ███████: It’s that bad?  
**Director Kirigiri:** I’ve seen all the reports. Especially the ones we’re not letting them print. Let’s just say the sooner we get your friends back, the better.


	20. 2-9a. The Heretic (Sayaka)

It really wasn’t so bad, once you got used to the lying.

When her boyfriend started talking backwards, Sayaka Maizono just had to use her psychic powers to interpret.

Or a lifetime's worth of experience dealing with show-business assholes and hyper-competitive, catty rivals. Enduring only for the sake of her dream, regardless of what it cost. All while smiling like it didn’t matter.

It was definitely one of those.

Makoto’s transformation was the creepiest part of this island-wide pandemic, the Despair Disease. Nothing else could compare. Some people even joked that his Light Containment room had two Kokichis in it.

 _That_ was going too far.

Sayaka just had to pretend everything was okay until even she started to believe.

“You look stressed, Sayaka. Have you considered doing the world a favor and killing yourself?”

_Smile. Just keep smiling._

“Eating too much lately? That bikini makes it super obvious. Careful not to get fat, or sleep too long~”

"You're so considerate, Makoto. Don't worry about me. I'm probably sleeping enough. Just about~ And I had a lovely parfait, uh. I definitely had one today. Or yesterday? I promise, I'll be okay once I'm off my shift."

If there was nothing else that the Ultimate Idol was good for, she could smile at despair in the name of hope. It was important that her smile always be broad and genuine, especially when it wasn’t. She couldn’t let herself slip for a moment.

The worst part was the way the poor boy looked after he said something awful. He knew exactly what was happening, and it was eating him up inside. Honestly, Makoto hurt himself worse than anyone. He eventually just tried to never talk. The condition surprised even him, though.

He seemed _compelled_ sometimes.

Kokichi, _the little shit,_ also made sport of getting Makoto to talk while others were around. Like forcing a performing animal to do tricks.

Visits were limited anyhow. Half the island was enough, thanks. If _everyone_ fell ill, there would be nobody left to care for the sick! Or guard against the traitors.

Luckily, Angie Yonaga was on the case.

Alongside her scantily-clad followers followers, the Black Hats. None of the core membership had taken ill, so they were well-placed to take advantage. It was strange how well things were working for them, all things considered.

Maybe Atua had spared them this wrath he’d poured out on the others? If so, he had pretty poor aim. He missed the double agents hiding right in Angie’s little cult! Like Sayaka Maizono, idol to millions and horrible person. Or Tenko Chabashira, recovering bigot and devoted girlfriend.

It wasn’t all fun, games, drugs, and sex. The Black Hats also had to help Mikan, the Ultimate Nurse. Sole healthcare professional on an island full of the sick and needy.

Otherwise, Mikan would work herself to death. Things were so rough that random Ultimates were volunteering for duty. Carrying supplies, monitoring the sick, and passing out controlled doses of medication to manage symptom loads.

The most unlikely candidates had stepped up in the face of this crisis.

“Morning, Ryoma,” Sayaka chirped, spotting him in the quarantine zone. “Not up too early?”

The Ultimate Tennis Pro, who doubled as the Ultimate Prisoner, had a deceptively cute appearance. He was absolutely tiny. Sayaka was looking straight down when standing before him in the sterile white hallways of the hospital.

Ryoma was an exercise in absurd contradictions, which is maybe why Sayaka always felt a kinship with him. Nothing about him was obligated to make sense. Even opening his mouth caused some deep-voiced badass to rumble past that surgical mask.

By all rights, he should have sounded like Mickey Mouse.

Yet he showed a depth of thought and wisdom that few people their age could.

“Nah. An athlete should rise before the sun. Or something. I used to have a coach who’d say… ah, nevermind. That’s a lifetime ago. I’ve done my delivery runs. What’s next?”

Sayaka tilted her head playfully. “What’s _next_ is you taking a break and getting some breakfast, or some rest, while _we_ handle the other areas.”

Fellow traitor Tenko was alongside, and she nodded in agreement. “Girls are naturally better at, well. A lot of things. Caregiving is high up on the list, though! Just leave it to us.”

“Might wanna do that, but I can’t. I’m running off more coffee than I’d care to admit,” Ryoma said. His beady eyes did have a certain look to them. A look familiar to a hard-working idol in a cutthroat industry. “I think it’s physically impossible for me to hold still. Sleep is out. Besides, I’ve done enough ‘nothing’ lately. Couldn’t stop Gonta, couldn’t do anything.”

A better person would have protested strongly, and made Ryoma settle down. Sayaka was just glad for the help, and got him more things to do from dearest Angie.

Putting the two of them together was like pouring oil on water, and then setting the mixture on fire.

“You’re doing fantastic work for us already,” Angie said, looking down on one of the few people on the island who didn’t surpass her height. “But if you want to keep going, there’s always bags to replace.”

What she lacked in height, she made up for in width. She was perhaps twice Ryoma’s thickness, at her broadest point. Although that tapered off fast as one’s eyes traveled north. ‘Pear-shaped’ was an inadequate description.

Also, she wasn’t wrong in that particular one instance. There were always bags to change out. Whether they’d become too full, or too empty.

“Come to think of it, who put you in charge?” Ryoma rumbled.

Angie looked left, then right. “Angie doesn’t see anybody who disagrees! Certainly, the Council is in no shape to run this island anymore~”

“You sound real broken up about that,” Ryoma said, deadpan. “Not that it’s any of my business. If barking orders does it for you, and people listen, have fun. Just try and remember your followers aren’t just toys to move around, or a resource to use up.” Ryoma glanced over at Sayaka and Tenko, who both laughed nervously.

“Ooh, a lecture about responsibility from the Ultimate Prisoner.” Angie squished her cheeks together in surprise, swaying from side to side. “That’s new! Angie’s _never_ had anyone tell her to be _responsible_ before.”

“I believe that,” Ryoma nodded. “Or at least you never listened to them. Ah well, that’s life. See ya around.”

As the beanie-wearing, leather-jacketed athlete turned his back, Angie had some parting words. “Don’t be so cold, Ryoma. Angie is seriously impressed. She’ll remember you did a good turn for us~ Everyone is surprised you’d volunteer. Even Atua didn’t tell me you’d come out of your shell for this.”

“Yeah, don’t make much sense,” Ryoma admitted. “No reason to live. So why would I help people struggling to hold on?”

He took his leave.

“ _That’s_ why guilt is so useless.” Angie said, loud enough to make sure the tennis pro heard it down the hall. “It just leads to you making pointless little gestures~ Like it’ll make up for all the people he killed, or something?”

Sayaka had things to say to that, but she kept it all inside.

Tenko was less skilled at hiding her feelings, and outrage was plain on her base. So Sayaka dragged her along on whatever their next job was, at the double. There wasn’t a lot of material on Tenko’s body to take a firm hold of, but the big green ribbon in her hair was alright. Tenko herself was surprised by how fast and strong Sayaka could be in a pinch.

_All those squats and dance routines, you know?_

“Sorry,” Tenko sighed, once they were out of earshot. “Tenko was about to explode. Tenko just can’t believe Angie would talk that way, even about an awful boy.”

“Normally she’s more friendly,” Sayaka admitted. “Even to non-believers. I think Ryoma really gets under her skin. Which is a new and frightening feeling for somebody like Angie, who just lets the world bounce off. Regardless, don’t let her get under yours, we have a job to do.”

That might have been asking too much of Tenko.

It was getting hard to believe Angie didn’t notice already.

Tenko’s hesitation when responding to ‘requests’. The sideways looks, the sneaking off at various times of day. Bluntly, Tenko was far too pure and honest of a soul to be any good at betraying. She always ran at every problem with seven hundred percent of her power.

Especially if the problem was a brick wall.

Sayaka, on the other hand, wasn’t similarly burdened. If nothing else, Tenko still helped her cover. After all, if Angie did realize Tenko wasn’t really a believer, that would draw the Ultimate Artist’s attention away. She probably wasn’t willing to believe she’d be so wrong about another beloved follower.

_That would suggest that Angie’s not perfect._

_Can’t have that._

_Can’t build a church on that._

“Tell you what!” Sayaka said. “We could both use some time away from all this. After our shift today, let’s head over to my Lab for a while.”

“Your Lab?” Tenko echoed curiously.

“You were wondering about being on stage, right? Maybe we could get something going. A performance, a routine, I don’t know. Everyone could use a break from these grey skies and grim news. It would be good practice for me, too. It’s been way too long. At the very least, we could get you fitted for some super cute idol costumes!”

Tenko looked at Sayaka with wide, childlike wonder.

“M-Miss Sayaka!”

The thickly-built and barely-dressed martial artist jumped on her like a puppy. Before realizing she was more or less assaulting a world-wide celebrity. At which point Tenko hastily backed off, blushing. “S-Sorry!”

“That’s okay,” Sayaka giggled. “Remember, I’m used to, uh. Enthusiastic fans.”

Tenko was just lucky she hadn’t pulled that in front of one of Sayaka’s hand-picked bodyguards back in Japan.

_Ever seen a real court trial, when somebody steps into what they call ‘the well’ without permission...?_

“A-Ahem! **M-Moving on!** Tenko wonders why Angie finds Ryoma so annoying. H-He’s low on Tenko’s own List. By male standards.”

The two of them made their way through the hospital as they chatted. It was a risk to associate with Tenko so openly given her suspicion. Sayaka, despite maintaining perfect cover in other ways, just couldn’t help it.

Their friendship was becoming essential for both parties, a port in the storm.

A reassurance that they weren’t the crazy ones, despite how they felt sometimes.

_It’s this world that’s messed up. Angie’s world, the one she’s trying to build. We have to stick together and keep each other sane._

_Like how it helps to sing with a friend._

_Just so you don’t drift off-key._

“I have a few theories,” Sayaka said. “The most obvious one is just that Angie finds his lack of faith… disturbing.”

Tenko’s reaction indicated she didn’t get it, which seemed impossible.

Then again, the Neo Aikido Master’s upbringing had been anything but conventional. After some of the stories Sayaka heard, she wouldn’t be shocked to learn that Tenko had literally grown up under a rock somehow.

Luckily, she understood Sayaka’s underlying meaning, even if the reference was a Tsumugi-grade failure.

“Ryoma finds it hard to have faith. Not just religiously, but that too. He’s said to Tenko that ‘there’s nothing in this world to believe in’.”

“The Ultimate Skeptic,” Sayaka nodded. “Kyouko said that wasn’t a healthy way to live. Doubting literally everything all the time. It probably isn't. It means he won’t get fooled by people like Angie, though. That’s something.”

“Himiko isn’t trusting either, given what she’s been through,” Tenko said. Even though they were estranged now, the martial artist still regularly thought about the mage. Who wasn’t these days, when Himiko had actual magic powers? “But it’s more like she’s gotten so lazy, she doesn’t want to even bother thinking for herself. So when Angie’s offering to basically think _for_ you…”

“She’s definitely at-risk,” Sayaka nodded solemnly. “We’ll do what we can, but ultimately, everybody has a choice to make. Looping back around, I think another reason Angie is tough on Ryoma is the choices he made before coming here.”

“That mafia he destroyed with his talent,” Tenko nodded grimly. “The people he… killed. Angie talks a lot about how she won’t forgive killing. Tenko always assumed that was just talk.”

“It could be,” Sayaka admitted. “But I don’t think so. If she really didn’t care, she wouldn’t shut Ryoma out in the cold like she does. Or bring it up when he’s around, blatantly trying to provoke him. Being that spiteful doesn’t have any practical benefit.”

_She’s sticking to this not for any personal gain, but just because she has a strong moral stance for once._

“Tenko can’t endorse killing, either. Not for any reason, even all those ‘noble causes’ people talk about. Or any of that. Killing is killing is killing, and it’s wrong.” Tenko nodded to herself, but quickly a look of new horror dawned on her face, and it did that profoundly weird crinkling-up thing.

“... Did we just find something admirable about Angie?!”

“Considering how she treats poor Ryoma?” Sayaka shook his head, “No, not really. Well, of course it’s good to be against killing. Basically everyone is, though. Not everyone takes it so personally. Not everyone takes it so far.”

_There could be a story there, or it could just be something she believes._

_Maybe Atua told her ‘thou shalt not kill’ and she took it to heart._

Of course, that supposed Atua existed. And that he represented any concept or principle separate from ‘whatever’s good for Angie’.

I’ll _have to see some proof on that one._

Sayaka’s golden ears picked up things just as much as Kaede’s.

If anything, the Ultimate Idol tended to survey more actively, taking in whatever she could hear in case it proved useful. Any advantage could be handy in these uncertain times, and it made her an even better spy than her general dishonesty and lack of personal ethics.

Today, as they moved through the quarantine area of the hospital, Sayaka heard something of particular interest. Shuichi and Ryoma’s conversation was audible to the blue-haired celebrity long before she caught sight of the boys.

_“... shouldn’t be any problem with a visit now. Especially from you, it might even lift his spirits.”_

_“That’d be a first. Somebody happy to see me?”_

_“Haha… I know the feeling, lately.”_

_‘That’s right, you’re on the Cult’s hit list too.”_

_“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. Um, but yes. That… and Kaede.”_

_“Sorry about what happened to her, Shuichi. Just remember, she doesn’t mean any of it. Not really. Anyhow, looks like we’ve actually got something in common. Did you ever think that would be true of such a terrible murderer, oh mister squeaky-clean detective?”_

_“It’s not like you being a convicted criminal out there matters now. I can’t say whether what you did was right or wrong. I’m not even sure I’d know the answer. I really only care about your behavior here, in this brave new world.”_

_“Yeah? And what do you think the me on this island, boss?”_

_“I mean, you haven’t killed any of us. Come on, Ryoma. You’re an important friend to a lot of us. More than you’d ever expected to become, I bet. Not like you need my blessing, though.”_

_“Hey, I’d still take a blessing from you over that girl.”_

It was no surprise to find Shuichi still outside the door to Gonta’s Heavy Containment cell, standing alone.

Shuichi smiled when he recognized them, and waved. He looked a lot better when he smiled. Cute, even. Cuter than the usual. A shame he was less prone to smiling now than ever before.

Sayaka wasn’t the only person dealing with how the Despair Disease ripped apart lives and relationships.

“Hey there. Fancy meeting you two here.”

“Yeah, it’s wild, what a coincidence,” Sayaka said, breezily.

“... Wait, wasn’t this the secret meeting spot?” Tenko asked.

_Whoosh._

“There isn’t much news from outside,” Shuichi said. “Nothing you both haven’t heard already. Life’s on lockdown until we get this disease sorted out, Kyouko’s leading that investigation. Nobody can do much of anything. Any news on your end?”

Sayaka shook her head. “My report is essentially the same as last time. I strongly believe that Angie is going to target vulnerable patients for conversion next, and it’s something to watch for. Furthermore, the cult’s getting, well.” Sayaka motioned to her own bikini-clad body, followed by Tenko’s.

As if he hadn’t noticed until she drew attention to it.

Shuichi looked down, turned very red, and looked back up.

Heh.

“Daring is I suppose the word to use,” Sayaka concluded. “Sorry I don’t have more to report, given all the trouble we’re going to for this. Angie just doesn’t make a whole lot of plans. Aside from her goals, which are obvious to anybody with eyes, she just sort of… _intuits_ what to do.”

“She’s really smart about it,” Shuichi said. “I don’t know about divine inspiration, but she can seize opportunities like nobody’s business.”

“What are we gonna do about Gonta?” Tenko asked, motioning towards the door. “I mean, he’s got the Gullibility Plague. He’ll believe anything you tell him!”

“Ryoma has some idea about that,” Shuichi said. “He’s in there now, visiting. Really, all we can do is leave it to him. he’s closer to Gonta than anyone else.”

_Oddly, ‘trust the convicted murderer’ doesn’t sound like a bad plan._

_Say what you will about him, and Ryoma would be the first in line to tell you how tough and dangerous he is. Over and over. He’s not wrong about one thing, though. I’d still trust his word, or especially Shuichi’s, over, well._

_Over our cheerful Dear Leader._

“Try not to overwork,” Shuichi said.

“Look who’s talking,” Tenko scoffed.

“... Point,” Shuichi conceded. “Um. Tenko. Speaking of, how’s… Mikan?”

Tenko glared. “How do you _think_ she’s doing? I…” She shook her head, biting her lip nervously. “She’s doing her best. That’s the problem. When it comes to sick people, she won’t ever do anything less than her best. I know me saying this is… Forget who says it, Mikan needs to slow down or she’ll just pass out!”

“I wish I could help,” Shuichi said. “... It’s not like she’d listen to a thing I said, regardless.”

Yeah.

Their parting in the hospital a while back, when Shuichi had left the group in dramatic fashion, had involved a needle loaded with what Mikan later claimed were _perfectly-harmless_ mild sedatives. _“J-J-J-Just to give him time to chill out and reconsider Angie’s o-offer!”_

It was an awkward situation all around.

Luckily, she wasn’t saddled with that particular load of baggage. Sayaka offered, “We can try and talk to her together, Tenko.” Since Mikan was a true believer, it was tough in some ways, but at least being in the same cult gave them all plenty of access to each other.

In various ways.

That was the kind of thing Sayaka left off her reports, for Shuichi’s sake.

Especially with his girlfriend sick and, for lack of a better term, _twisted_ by the disease. Poor guy.

Not really anybody’s day. Except Angie’s, of course.

Yet, Sayaka would keep at it.

She’d keep smiling, keep playing along, whatever it took. So she’d be in position, in the moment it counted most. Angie was great at finding chances, but she wasn’t the only one. Angie was great at lying, but she wasn’t the only practiced liar on Gopher Island.

_I don’t know how far these two plagues are gonna go. How many people they’ll infect. But I’ll be here, doing whatever I can about both._

_Makoto wouldn’t want anything less from somebody he’s put his own faith and belief in. While he’s laid up in bed and can’t fight, I’ll have to fight twice as much on his behalf._

_I know Kyouko feels the same way._

Everyone who was still standing had people they cared about in the hospital, one way or another. This island wasn’t a collection of strangers any longer. Even the most isolated of them had some connection, in spite of their best attempts to avoid it.

Even a selfish girl like Sayaka had gotten swept along in the spirit of community. The sense of being a part of something greater than one’s self. The stoic determination of service, rather than what Angie wanted, which was mindless servitude.

That’s what would keep the Ultimates going, through the dark days to come.

It wasn’t just that they could do it, and others couldn’t. It was that there was nobody else. They couldn’t run, they couldn’t hide, and they couldn’t just shrug and ‘let other people handle it’.

_I’ll be ready, Angie._

_Whatever your next move is, I’ll be there. Right by your side._

_You’ll never see it coming, unless you really are blessed and highly favored._

_Then again, if you were, you wouldn’t have gotten fooled so easily._

_Hey, ‘Atua’, can you hear me?_

_Your ‘prophet’ is a miserable liar. Worse than me. Even if her intentions are pure, the methods she uses to bring people together are going to reap a bloody harvest. It’s going to cut the island in half, and end with actual people getting cut in half too if we’re really unlucky._

_At the very least, even if she wants to stop the traitors or stop killing or whatever, she’s got a funny way of showing it._

_She’s also totally nuts. Minor character defect._

_Also, you suck!_

_Oh, don’t like that? Getting mad at my blasphemy? Do something about it, big boy._

_Do your worst._

_Yeah, I didn’t think so._


	21. 2-11a. It's Complicated [NSFWish] (Akane)

Akane Owari didn’t know how to handle complicated stuff.

Complicated feelings, especially.

Standing over Coach Nekomaru’s hospital bed, watching the giant of a man cling to life, Akane didn’t know _how_ to feel.

She wanted him back. She wanted to beat his ass for making her worry. As if she coulda done that, anyhow. She wanted to get stronger with his training. She wanted to eat with him in Teruteru’s restaurant. Demanding more and more food until even the Ultimate Chef begged for mercy.

Everyone used to get worked up about traitors, memories, Usami. But really, they could do as they liked. There was shelter, warm beds, those Labs, and food.

So much goddamn food.

Enough to where Akane could never run short again. Enough to where she could horde a ton of it in her cabin and still have more wherever she went. Enough to just eat whenever, as much as possible, and Akane took full advantage. She was rarely without food at least nearby.

Those were good times.

They were over.

Even Akane’s extra-secret stashes went up in smoke when the damn bear came back and made a mess of the island.

Now people were talkin’ about ‘pooling supplies’ and ‘emergency rationing’ and ‘holding out until next week’. If Usami could even keep going, with Rocketpunch Supermarket burned to the fucking ground.

Bastard stuffed animals could have, if they wanted, just never given the Ultimates food again.

The islands weren’t right for being farmed. Nobody had farming stuff anyhow, like seeds or tractors. There weren’t the kind of animals you hunted, except for some rabbits and other small things. Berries were rare, and the banana trees were more for decoration than actual eating. Some were even plastic.

Much as Akane had tried before, you couldn’t eat plastic.

Long and short of it was that the Ultimates couldn’t keep themselves going on this island without food coming in. So they’d better hope that kept happening.

Or things would really go to hell.

The others hadn’t seen what it was like when people got no food. Akane had seen it before. She’d felt the hunger deep in her bones, when she was little more than skin and bones, on the streets.

_If that happens, I’ll survive. No matter what I gotta do._

‘Dog eat dog” wasn’t such a funny saying when you’d grown up actually seeing starving, mangy mutts fight over food in the streets. Or had to join in, when things got real bad.

It wasn’t just the food, although food was life, and their lifeline was entirely dependant on somebody else.

Mikan also wouldn’t give Akane a straight answer about Nekomaru. Even when Akane got a little forceful and pinned her to the wall, pushing their huge chests together. Flattening the poor, stuttering nurse in various ways.

Which meant there was something up worse than a damn fever. Something Mikan didn’t want to say. Maybe even something the Coach made her promise not to say.

Bad news.

Akane didn’t know about fancy stuff, but she could read people, read situations. Sniff things out. Not just literally, although she had one fantastic nose. She was like a wild animal, whose instincts made her go nuts before the storm. Her bones had been sore even before the outbreak. Much less the war that followed.

Tenko’s weird-ass obsession with Akane finally came in handy. It made getting a decent sparring partner easy.

As it turned out, even when blasted by bombs, Akane’s outdoor Lab was fine. It wasn’t any more messy than normal, and nobody had bothered to bomb it that hard. There wasn’t anything there, except some rock-climbing stuff and athletic gear.

The wrestling ring had even survived intact, which was good.

Akane was in the mood to get on the mat and break somebody in half.

Nothing weird. No spectators or busybodies to stop them. No lewd things. Just two girls stripping down to tight little bikinis that didn’t obstruct their movements (Tenko refused to get nude, what a weirdo) and rubbing up against each other like animals.

“This time, Tenko’s going to defeat you! No matter what!”

_Never heard that one before._

Tenko thought kicking was a better idea then getting close, though. After what happened last time, probably a good idea.

Had one hell of a kick, too.

Akane could feel the air shift and pulse around when Tenko’s leg shot out like a piston. She’d clearly been working out. Considering her one-sided ‘rivalry’ thing, it made sense that she was training for a rematch.

It wasn’t just obvious from the way those rock-hard abs rippled, or how the v-shape of her shoulders was getting a lot thicker and more refined. The way she moved was more confident, determined. Those thick-ass legs let her really get off a good one when Akane dropped her guard.

Being hit by Tenko’s strikes were like running into a brick wall.

Shame Akane was built like a brick _shithouse_.

Just to prove a point, Akane let her nail a shot into Akane’s own abs, and didn’t budge. The four-sided ring shook with the impact around them, the ropes dancing and jittering before coming taught again. The mat bowed with the force of the impact, yet Akane did nothing but yawn. Seeing a strong strike like that go to waste, ignored, made Tenko a lot more cautious.

Fighting was as much in the head as the muscles. Really, Akane felt like her guts had been turned to mush. As long as she didn’t look like it, or let it get in the way, it was like it never happened.

Tenko just saw a wall of unstoppable fury. She didn’t realize Akane was in pain.

Tenko was always so open with her feelings. While Akane was simple and straightforward, she could at least pretend Tenko hadn’t nearly knocked her out from the pain.

Tenko was working on her own pain tolerance, but giving her some Nekomaru-grade kidney punches would still end things way too fast. Akane wasn’t even sure she could land those anymore, Not when Tenko herself weaved and bobbed around like she was carried on the wind. Like that big green ribbon in her hair could rotate and make her fly.

Insead, the ultimate gymnast just kept attacking, with no hope of hitting with her broad, slow, powerful strikes.

Until she got Tenko cornered.

_Always pay attention to where you are when you’re fighting! Instead of staring at the other girl’s chest._

_You’ve got all day to stare, but this fight’s about to be over!_

It hadn’t been nearly as easy as Akane expected.

She could admire Tenko’s spirit or even acknowledge how hard she worked, but she never honestly expected to get this much trouble from the smaller girl. Catching her, cornering her, even landing a strike of her own, it just wasn’t happening for the longest time.

Then it finally did.

Akane had to eat another brutal kick to the side, but in return, she bullied Tenko into a corner of the four-sided ring, and wrapped her up in a big old hug.

_Friends should hug it out when they’re upset, right?_

“W-Whoa! Uh, Miss Akane, this is… uh… Very close, huh? Heh heh….”

Not exactly a _friendly_ hug, though.

The bear-kind, where the goal was to break her.

Akane was bigger, stronger, and had a sense of primal aggression that treated every fight with deadly seriousness. Tenko was sparring, Akane was fighting. Now, Tenko would just be struggling to resist being crushed.

Akane poured endless, restless strength into her bulging arms, like they were a pair of boa constrictors.

They coiled up around Tenko’s body, trapping her arms at her sides and keeping her firmly in this lethal embrace. The panicking girl didn’t even have even enough room to squirm. As much as she tried to struggle, and kicked at Akane’s own rippling legs, and thrashed fearfully, she had nowhere to go.

“T-Tenko doesn’t mind hugs from girls, b-but not like this….!”

Chattering away just used air that Tenko no longer had to waste.

Like the island’s supplies, she’d gone from having all she could imagine, to a sharply limited amount that was being reduced with every crushing squeeze. Tenko knew being in this position was a bad idea even if wrestling wasn’t her thing.

She could feel the energy being squashed out of her. Every second in Akane’s hold, pressed against her, weakened this self-proclaimed ‘rival’. Those green eyes were wide with fear.

This wasn’t the best wrestling move, or a skillful one at all. There were a bunch of ways to beat this, but you had to beat your own panic first. Pure, raw intimidation factor. Akane loved it. It wasn’t a smart fighting tactic to do this, especially against somebody who knew what they were doing.

Before you were too weak to fight back effectively.

_I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger, and that means I can do whatever the fuck I want._

While Tenko’s arms weren’t free, that just meant those arms were guarding Tenko’s more narrow torso from the full crushing force. Tenko could thrash, kick, scratch, even desperately, wildly try to headbut Akane.

Akane just held on, like a pitbull, regardless of any damn thing Tenko did.

Even getting smashed in the face, even with blood running down her nose, she just grinned through her new crimson mask.

_Yeah, this is it. The struggle. Come on, break free, don’t let it end like this._

For them to be eye-to-eye meant lifting Tenko off her feet, contributing to that helpless sensation.

For their bodies to meet, chest-to-chest, meant they were pushed together intimately. In fact, this hold was one of the most intimdate moves in wrestling. Their entire fronts docked together, which meant a lot of very particular things for girls so well-endowed. Competing like this, looking into your opponent’s eyes, staring them down as you squeezed them half to death.

Nothing like it in the world.

Even fighting with Coach Nekomaru couldn’t give this feeling. He was always way too bashful and humble to roll around on the mats with her.

Once Akane had control, getting both of them to the mat, with the dark-skinned athlete on top, was no trouble.

_Muscle weighs more than fat, Coach Nekomaru taught me that one._

Akane’s body weight itself helped press Tenko down. Squashing her into the mat, which only had so much give. Like Tenko’s own body. Even the soft parts could only be pressed so far before it really fucking hurt. It wasn’t just gravity, of course.

Akane exerted herself, grinding and even humping her while keeping those arms trapped. She was really no more than a beast at this point, one intent only on physical conquest.

It should have been fun to see Tenko’s determination crumble, and feel those hard abs get ground down against Akane’s belly.

To see and feel the enemy weaken beneath her.

To literally grind in her _superiority_.

To make it clear which of them was the prey.

It wasn’t, really.

Certainly not as fun as it had been to get other cute girls into this position.

Maybe it was because, regardless of how much Tenko was pancaked into the floor, she just wouldn’t lose that annoying, burning glare of defiance in her eyes.

Maybe it was just because it took forever to get Tenko to weaken, much less submit.

She even tried rubbing back at Akane, although she stopped pretty quick, for some reason. Her face got real red, too. Not just because Akane’s weight and strength were squeezing every bit of air from her victim. Breathing was getting pretty hard down there, which was the whole point.

Maybe Akane was just letting stupid worries get in her way.

She tried to live her life not worried about anything, or anyone. It wasn’t that she was stupid, or didn’t notice things. Okay, maybe sometimes she didn’t. But she was also tuning the world out, on purpose.

Attachments just brought pain, or sacrifice for others, or any of that crap that would just make you lose out in the long run.

It should have been a rush to hear Tenko murmur her submission into Akane’s ear with the last of her raspy voice, and weakly tap against Akane’s bulging back muscles.

Akane didn’t feel anything, though!

Well, a little bit.

It was impossible to grind a girl like Tenko half to dust and not get a little, uh, _excited_. Akane barely even got off on it, though. Not as much as one might expect. Even though the situation was steamy enough, and Tenko was gorgeous.

Tenko was, admittedly, taken.

That could have also had somethin’ to do with it.

Akane took a while to get off her living trophy, who gasped grateful lungfuls of air. Tenko probably felt like her chest would have to ‘re-inflate’, given how much she’d gotten crushed by Akane’s larger, firmer breasts.

Abs were the same way, her belly had to be exhausted. Akane had certainly made sure Tenko couldn’t flex anymore, but just lie there trying to recover.

“Tenko… wasn’t prepared for… _th-that_ kind of fight,” Tenko said, once she could breathe again. “Tenko still has a lot to learn about this world. A whole lot.”

“You did alright,” Akane admitted, wiping some of the trickle of blood from her nose. “Especially for your first match. Tagged me good, a bunch of times. You’re getting a lot better at enduring the pain, too.”

“It was that, or give up again right away,” Tenko wouldn’t meet her gaze. After what they’d just done in the ring, that was understandable. “Ha ha.”

_Keep fighting._

_It doesn’t matter how long it takes. It doesn’t matter that you lost today, this fight was so different from the last one._

_I wanna see what you can do when you really get into it._

_I want you to get to the point where you can beat me into the ground. Like a Neo-Aikido Master should._

_Coach Nekomaru, is this… how you felt…?_

“Hey.”

Akane looked away too, up towards the sky. It started raining yet again. Rainstorms were now just a part of life on Gopher Island.

“Sorry I got, uh, like that. I know you got a girlfriend.”

“I-I-It was all just wrestling,” Tenko replied, turning red and hiding her face. “Really intense wrestling. Y-You did what you had to do to win. Tenko has to be ready for all sorts of fights.” She was muffled past her hands. “Even really embarrassing ones.”

Damnit, Akane was becoming friends with this yapping dog.

“With other places wrecked, all the fighters can come train here, if they want. That includes you. It beats working out in the hospital, with everyone breathin’ down your neck.”

Long-winded emotional blabbering wouldn’t have helped either of them as much as a fight. That massive release of energy meant that they could just relax for a bit.

So they just sat there, not speaking, lying on the mat, looking up at the cloudy sky.

It was impossible to pick out even one star anymore.

“The stars are weird, anyhow,” Akane said aloud.

“Weird?”

Akane didn’t have the words to explain it.

“Nevermind. They just look weird to me, I dunno.”

Tenko looked up at the sky, and finally got a glimpse of the sky past the blanket of endless grim clouds. “You mentioned before that you grew up in the inner city, right? Even at night, the stars look different. Out here, there’s almost no lights at all to get in the way. That’s what Chihiro says, anyhow.”

Makes as much sense as anything else.

The rain started back up, yet again. Both girls were already in swimsuits, so there wasn’t much worry about water, and both of them barely felt the droplets come down with how exhausted and beaten-down they were.

“Hey, Tenko.”

“Y-You remembered Tenko’s name!”

Akane picked her ear. “Well, you do say it like every ten seconds.”

“That’s true…”

“The whole Atua thing. What do you think about it?”

Tenko tensed up again. “W-What do you mean?”

“Angie talks about Atua a bunch. Goes on and on about how great Atua is. How he’s watching over us.” Akane looked up towards the rain-soaked sky. Her puffy, unkempt brown hair was soaked. “You’re part of that group, so tell me straight up. Is there, like, anything to all that?”

Tenko sure took her sweet time answering, like she had to think something over. Especially for Tenko, that wasn’t usual. Normally, the first thing that popped into her head came right out the mouth without any consideration.

Not that Akane would know anything about that.

“Tenko can’t tell anyone what to believe.” Tenko looked aside. “Sheesh, that sounds like Shuichi! I can’t believe Tenko has stolen a line from some male. People don’t work like that, though. He was right. Whatever Tenko says won’t match up to what you feel in your heart. Tenko got a pretty, uh, deep read of you in that battle, because of Tenko’s ability.”

_Don’t need some special ‘battle reading’ to figure out a lot about somebody from a fight that close and personal._

Akane had learned a lot of things, too. Mostly physical.

“You’re conflicted, and Tenko might not have any answers.”

Akane sighed. “So you don’t wanna get into that, huh. Even though you’re one of those Believers?”

Tenko shook her head. “Tenko is still figuring out, uh, some of the details herself. If it’s just about feeling better, believing that the world makes sense, that we have to treat each other well, that’s not so bad.” Under her breath, lower than she probably thought Akane could hear, she murmured, “If only that’s all there was to it.”

Yeah, it was complicated.

Akane didn’t _do_ complicated.

Clearly, something was working out for the Black Hats, though. They were ‘winning’, getting bigger as a group, stronger, more powerful. Akane couldn’t say that something was ‘wrong’ if it won. Life was a never-ending battle, after all. It was possible they knew something she didn’t. Something important.

Maybe, if nothing else, it would help take her mind off these other thoughts. Off feeling like she was anxiously awaiting Coach Nekomaru’s return.

But also knowing, in some deep, dark place, that it wouldn’t be for a while.

If he ever came back.

If it could give her even a minor distraction from the thoughts rumbling around in her head? Then like this fight, it was worth it for that alone. Like this fight, though, she might get something else out of it too by the end.

“Tell Angie I’ll come by during her next sermon thing,” Akane said. “No promises about how long I’ll stay. There’d better be food.”

Tenko nodded solemnly. “Tenko understands. She’ll pass that along.”

_Well, don’t bother looking overjoyed, over there. I’m only giving your dumbass religion thing a shot. Aren’t you even a little happy about that?_

_I’m trying to make amends or whatever they call it, you weirdo._

Oh well. Tenko was Tenko.

“Thanks for the match.” Akane rose up to her feet and stretched out, yawning. “See ya around.”

“D-Definitely.” Tenko sprung up to her feet, although she immediately doubled over, pulling up a hand to rub her extremely sore belly and chest. Still not even close to recovered from the work Akane put into flattening her. Not that trying to _compress_ her curves would have been easy, but there was a lot of force and weight put into it.

“Ah, Miss Akane! Tomorrow is Monokuma’s announcement thing.”

“Yep.” Akane sighed. “I don’t have much, but who knows about all the others.”

“We may need your strength,” Tenko said. “In case, well. In case anything happens.”

“That’s fine,” Akane nodded. “Just let me know who needs to get beat up tomorrow.”

Akane didn’t stick around long. She didn’t want to pace around the hospital like a caged tiger, and the fight had helped her blow off some steam.

Enough to where, instead, she just took a walk, without bothering to get into anything more covering than her blue and white striped bikini. There was no point, especially at night where nobody could yell at her to ‘cover up’.

Angie’s got that one right, at least.

Monokuma’s Siege really did a number on the islands.

Not one of them were spared.

Buildings blown to bits, reduced to rubble and burned to ashes. Bomb craters, with the occasional bomb that had failed to actually blow up sitting intact. Even though it had been raining, the forest caught on fire. Swaths of it were just blackened stumps. The beaches were covered in dead plushies, mostly still left where they fell.

Other people dwelled on all this mess more, but even Akane had to admit, it was freaky to think that just a week ago, this was paradise.

Now, it was Hell.

Maybe Akane was just trapped in old memories, but she ended up back in her favorite place on Gopher Island.

The place with the best food.

Teruteru’s Ultimate Lab, the  **Lagniappe**.

What was left of it.

It got off lighter than some other buildings, in that it still stood. All four walls, and the ceiling, were technically there. Even if a huge mono-missile had crashed straight through, and smashed half of the tables in the cafe area. What windows there had been shattered into hundreds of glass shards all around.

During the battle, Usami had holed up inside the kitchen, which meant Monokuma had used _flamethrowers_ to dig her out.

A lot of actual meat had been cooked in the fridges and meat lockers along with all those fake rabbits. Now, any that escaped the flames had still gone bad, when power failed to the building and underground lines were cut off.

Meaning there was tons of meat in there, and all of it was rotten.

Fucking disgusting.

The smell of decay and death carried on the wind straight out to Akane on the road outside. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. She would have left then, if she didn't see him. Standing out there in front of the ruined glass double-doors, with a bright, expectant smile.

“Ah, if it isn’t mah favorite customer!” Teruteru grinned up at her, cheeks their usual rosy-red. “You’re out pretty late this evening, _mon cher_.”

“Right back atcha,” Akane replied. “What are you doing over here?”

“What? That should be obvious, _non_? I’ve got a business to run! Rain or shine, day or night. The restaurant's gotta go on! That’s just part of my… _big-city_ work ethic!”

Akane looked over the blasted, flame-broiled ruins that had once been a popular restaurant, but certainly weren’t any longer. Then, she looked back to Teruteru’s bright, cheerful smile.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was wrong with him, or what he was doing about it.

Or how unhealthy it was.

Akane wasn’t anybody’s nanny, but she felt a certain loyalty to the little southern potato. He’d provided for her demands, regardless of how unreasonable she could be about food. Teruteru diligently prepared high-class food for the entire island, even though he got a lot of shit.

Everyone bit the hand that fed them around here.

So instead of walking away and leaving somebody else to talk Teruteru out of his delusion, Akane just asked, “Got any tables open?”

Teruteru was startled by this question. He didn’t look back into his restaurant to check. On account of the apocalypse that had gone on around it. The mounds of dirt and debris. “I think we have a few open in the corner over there, uh. If you’re hungry at this time of night, I can try and cook something up!”

“Sounds like a plan.” Akane grinned. “Lead the way.”

Making Teruteru actually walk through the ruins of his Lab and show her to a table was the first thing to try. It didn’t work. He was fighting his own battle, a holding action against reality itself. He worked very hard not to notice how fucked-up his restaurant was. The little guy just walked over to one of the last intact wooden tables, pulling out a chair obligingly for her.

“Don’t have much in the way of staff these days,” Teruteru said. "But a real Hanamura man can run the entire establishment himself! It’s not how we usually roll in the city, but hey, times are tough. It’s a ‘downer’ economy. In any case, what can I do you for?”

Even though Teruteru had a perfect angle on an enormous rack in a tight, straining striped bikini, he didn’t so much as glance up from his notepad. Which quivered in his hand, as did a pen in the other.

So much so, that he found writing down Akane’s meat-fueled delusions difficult.

He disappeared into what was left of the kitchen. Akane sighed, leaning back in the chair. Already weakened from blast forces, the wooden furniture around here ached and groaned beneath Akane’s sheer weight. Unlike Tenko, it just about held up. Like Teruteru’s fantasy of a working establishment.

_What do I say to him? I’ve never been the, uh, talking type. Or the helping type. Or anything. Shit, I should just let somebody else handle this._

Right on cue, her prayers were answered.

Kind of.

“I didn’t expect to find you here. You do know this place is fucked, right? Have you taken too many shots to the head?”

Akane glanced back and saw a troublesome child. “Hey, Hiyoko. Yeah, I know that! But Teruteru hasn’t noticed yet.”

Hiyoko, pointedly uninvited, pulled up a chair at the table. She had to look pretty far up to meet Akane’s cautious stare. “He’s pretty far gone. _Kusukusu_ , it’s pathetic.”

Akane had seen this type of behavior before on the streets. Usually not to that level. Though there was a homeless guy once who just refused to admit he was homeless. He walked along the streets of the city in the day, not collecting change or any of that, just, like. Hanging out, hobnobbing at the coffee shop.

At night, he treated a patch of wherever like his ‘apartment’, pantomiming out the normal life he’d been deprived of. He hadn’t been born to the streets, he used to live under a roof, so he just denied anything had changed about his life circumstances.

That kinda thing pissed Akane off when she saw it. Just burying his head in the sand. She couldn’t help a swell of annoyance about this, too.

More importantly, though… “Why’d you come by, Hiyoko? Got the munchies?”

“Sure. That’s why I came here, instead of going to like, the hospital cafeteria. Where this moron of a chef should be working his ass off for everyone. Especially me! Instead of hanging out here.” Hiyoko huffed. “Isn’t it obvious? He needs to get over to where he can serve me better. Out here, he’s just having a meltdown, and that’s useless.”

What a selfish way to put that. Teruteru was shattered to pieces, and Hiyoko could only talk about how much it inconvenienced her. The Ultimate Traditional Dancer’s words painted one picture. Akane easily sniffed out the real story.

She couldn’t help but smile down at the twin-tailed blonde.

“W-What’s so funny?!”

“Maybe if you guys talk it over, he’ll come to his senses.” Akane shrugged. As a consequence of that and the motion it caused, Hiyoko stared in open-mouthed, hateful jealousy. “I dunno? That’s what would work if this was some cheap-ass Lifetime movie.”

Hiyoko pouted. Red cheeks puffed out as her mouth did that fish-thing. “I figured I’d have to be the one to knock some sense into him. If needed, I’ll just get you to bop him in the head extra hard!”

_I guess that’s an option, too._

_Well, I’m up for hospital food that doesn’t blow, so I guess we’re a team now._

The appearance of an uninvited guest didn’t throw Teruteru off his game.

He just brought out more ‘meat’ and ‘drink’. Which amounted to empty plates and cups. Thankfully, he didn’t serve up rotting, flamethrower-broiled meat, or bits of Usami. Akane had been fearfully half-expecting that, like something out of another genre of movies. He wasn’t that far gone, yet. Even so, even though she’d had plenty of stuff today, she couldn’t admit to being disappointed when Teruteru opened his serving plates and revealed the grand prize.

_Fucking nothing!_

Eating an imaginary meal in an imaginary restaurant was quite a thing, though. Come to think of it, this was perfect for Hiyoko, playing pretend. It was eerie. So again, perfect for the little demon.

Akane could almost see the ghostly outlines of all the others, sitting around the tables. Having meetings, talking endlessly while Akane was just trying to eat some fucking food. That fat bastard, the self-important one in white, who thought he could match her appetite. She could hear his imperious tone.

_Heh, you’re a thousand years too early to eat me under the table. Pffft. Get it? Because that’s a dirty joke too, it’ll make your front tail happy…_

_Fuck. He’s in the hospital, too. He’s not got it as bad as the Coach, but he’s still in there. Still got no clue what’s gonna happen to him. If he’s ever gonna get better._

_Hina, Makoto, Hajime, Byakuya, Coach Nekomaru, Kaito..._

Everyone Akane had any kind of real connection with, even a tenuous one, was sick as a dog. The most vivid memories that this place drew were the ones from people who weren't able to get up and walk out here, even if they’d felt like it. Even if the roof didn’t have a missile stuck in like a clothespin. Even if most of the tables and furniture weren’t piles of ash. Scattered about carelessly alongside mounts of dust and dirt by Teruteru’s frantic back-and-forth.

Akane couldn’t find the words to explain why she was crying, nor did she know when it started.

It just happened.

It wasn’t enough to avoid that damn Despair Disease herself. In here, of all places, thoughts of everything that she, personally, had lost, came flooding back. While she’d lived on, and kept going, part of her wished she had it too now. She’d always been focused on survival, on looking out for number one first and fuck the rest, but now, if it meant she could be with the others...

“Jeez,” Hiyoko rolled her eyes, the picture of unsympathy. “I don’t need more crying idiots in my life. I thought nothing got past that thick skull and those enormous jugs, Akane.”

Apparently, something finally had.

Hiyoko left it at that, though. As if she had no clue what to say, and was even worried of appearing broken up about it. Putting up an aggressive front.

Teruteru came by again with the ‘desert course’, saw Akane bawling her eyes out, and froze, staring.

Hiyoko could take no more, and stood up suddenly, knocking over her chair and startling Teruteru into dropping his empty trays. The metal and china clattered to the ground and just became so much more mess.

It hardly made a dent, except in making the fantasy that things were okay come crashing down just as hard. When that shattered, it couldn’t be taped back together no matter how hard Teruteru might regret it.

“What are you doing? What the hell, exactly, are both of you doing?!”

Neither of them had a good answer to that.

Teruteru tried.

“J-Just keeping up my… fine, lovely establishment. I mean, it’s got to be that, right? Things have got to be just like they have. Like we’ve gotten used to. If they weren’t…”

“Then we’d have to think about all the stuff we lost,” Hiyoko groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Look. I’m not gonna entertain this stupid fantasy for one more second.” She got up, and pointed towards the missile.

A grinning Monokuma face, with the red eye, was painted on the side, as Akane could see through the tears still welling up. She tried to blink them away. Teruteru stared at the missile.

“I know, okay.”

“Hm?” Hiyoko leaned forward, tapping her chin. “Have you finally noticed-”

_**“By Paris Hilton, ah damn well know!”** _

Teruteru burst in a flurry of energy they’d only seen once before. In the courtroom, during that Ultimate Stew incident. In the times before all of this. That time Hiyoko had royally fucked him over, and nearly got away with it.

“It’s impossible not to notice all this, even if you’re trying really hard. God damnit. Is it so bad? Is it so bad to just… pretend? To just keep things going?”

Hiyoko looked between the two blubbering wrecks before her. “Yes!”

“If facing reality means admitting that we’re all screwed, that things are so bad…” Teruteru shook his head, beady eyes screwed up tight in a grimace. “T-Then forget reality!”

“I can’t eat imaginary steaks, though,” Akane said, staring at her empty plate.

Maybe _that_ comment helped Teruteru see how ridiculous things had gotten.

Regardless of what caused it, he sighed. “You guys want me to set up in the hospital’s cafeteria, and start working there instead.”

“Duh,” Hiyoko said. “Try cooking some actual food, dipshit. Maybe you won’t be obsessing about this dumb place as much. Or whining, and crying for your mommy like a little bitch. What are you, like twenty? Older? Christ.” She smirked.

Teruteru sighed deeply, and walked away from the acidic kiddo.

He took a seat of his own at the next table over.

“Lemme think about it.”

“Is that the best you can-”

“Ah said! That I need to think things over. I just think I need some time.” Teruteru glanced over at them. “Don’t worry about the bill today, ladies. It’s all on the house.”

“Well, we got what we paid for. Not that you ever charged money anyhow, you big-ass softie.” Hiyoko threw up her hands. “Alright, by all means. Be stupid. That’s hardly unique, on this island. Or for you. Come on, Akane. Chop, chop.”

_What am I, a dog?_

_Okay, yeah, I pretty much am._

At the smaller girl’s behest, the two girls left. Akane still dabbed at her tears with a liberated napkin. Luckily, it wasn’t coated in dust and dirt, or it would have just made everything so much worse.

“I can’t believe he didn’t even glance at you in that getup,” Hiyoko said once they were far away, and headed for the central island. “I mean, you’re soaking wet, too. Here! Hold my umbrella, make yourself useful. Get me back to the hospital, sheesh.”

“Sure, whatever.”

They left Teruteru in that place, in the ruins of his own accomplishments.

With the memories of all the smiles he put on everyone’s faces with his fantastic cooking. With the memories of all the times that the gang ganged up on him. The reactions of the people he harassed, some brushing it off, others reacting rather violently. Of course, with his own memories, too. Of the time before. What was left, after Usami had scooped some of it out.

He still remembered his own family diner, though. The one he’d talked about so often while running back and forth in that kitchen. There was a lot tangled up in the Lagniappe, including a big piece of Teruteru himself.

This island was a strange and dangerous place to the Ultimates, but it had also become home.

Or at least, close enough to remind people of what their real home was like.

Akane was glad to be out of her real home, this place still beat it, even when the plushies had turned it upside down.

Teruteru just needed to time to work out his feelings. Even if that meant he’d be there, running routines that no longer made any sense. Servicing imaginary customers, flirting with waitresses that only existed in his mind. Cooking food from memory rather than from anything substantial.

Once he’d worked up the courage to look at the stark face of reality, he’d be back among the Ultimates.

Hopefully.

_Get well soon, dude. If I can’t get Coach Nekomaru to do ‘It’ to me anymore, your cooking is the next best thing. Might keep me sane in these insane times._

Akane had no way of knowing what tomorrow would bring. She’d always lived day to day, though. Living in the moment meant the future could go to hell. At least she’d enjoy as much of her life as possible, even if things went bad.

She’d leave all the worries about the mythical ‘tomorrow’ to smarter people.

Smart people like Shuichi and Angie.


	22. 2-15a. Der Flohwalzer (Kaede)

Nightmares ended when you woke up, right?

No matter how many times Kaede closed her eyes, pinched herself, or begged for mercy, there was none to be found. When she tried to run, stronger and faster members of the group dragged her back by the arms, kicking and screaming.

They roughly restrained her.

She couldn’t fight back, and nobody would listen. Their minds were already made up. The Kaede that she was now was collateral damage, for their happy ending.

Usami had gathered everyone via the PA system into the hospital conference room, and explained her plan. Everyone else was overjoyed. Kaede was disgusted.

She let them know it.

“Th-This is no different from _killing_ me, you guys! Do you hate me that much?!”

“Kaede, you’re talking crazy,” Leon said, trying to keep hold of the flailing Pianist and avoid being elbowed or stomped. “Knock it off! Ow! Hey! Just chill out, would you?!”

Kaede turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “Listen! When Usami uses that flashback light, I’ll disappear. I’ll be replaced by… _that_ _other_ Kaede.”

The one everyone _loved_ so much.

The one they loved because she wasn’t _this_ Kaede, the mean, bitter, spiteful one. Nobody loved this Kaede, not even enough to lift a finger to save her. Not even enough to say a word in her defense.

Mikan raised her hand gingerly. “Um, but you’re Kaede either way.”

“You all were the bastards who kept saying I was ‘some new person’!” Kaede glared daggers at the pig barf, who shrunk away behind her cult leader. “Get… off me! Let me go!”

Angie stepped forward, wagging her finger. “Now, now, Kaede. Angie understands this is difficult to take in. Everyone was shocked at first. However, once we see the flashback light, it’ll all be okay. Atua said we’re all gonna be cured for sure!”

“How is that even possible?” Ryoma asked. “Curing a disease with a flashlight?”

“Normal cures for normal ills,” Himiko intoned. “Magical cures for magical ills.”

“Well-said,” Usami huffed. “I’ve calculated every variable! There’s no way this one can fail.”

“How many times have you said that about these things?” Kazuichi shook his head. “Pull the other leg, you damn rabbit.”

“Kazuichi! Silence, you impudent fool!” Sonia-Celeste proclaimed, and being in the Ultimate Gambler’s body really worked for that routine. She did ‘psychotic anger’ well.

“Eeeek! Yes, ma’am!” Kazuichi’s face was a mask of humiliation and shame. His usual emotions- “W-Well, I guess you _are_ getting a little better each time.”

Usami coughed awkwardly. “Um. This light has two goals this time, everybody. First, and most importantly, it will cancel out that insidious Despair Disease, and restore you all to normal. That will counteract one of Monokuma’s schemes. And the second goal will handle the other part of his plan, that motive that drove everyone crazy!”

“You’re going to counter that? How?” Chiaki-Miu asked skeptically.

“By bringing you back some of your memories of Hope’s Peak! The time you all spent together as a class.” Usami nodded. “By reminding you all that you aren’t strangers or enemies. You’re friends, who have to stand together against Monokuma and despair!”

It was a brilliant way to rope everybody in.

While some of the students weren’t swayed by the friendship-and-rainbows side of the offer, a cure for the Despair Disease was just too tempting to pass up. Or for them to allow anyone else to pass up, regardless of whether they consented to this absurd ‘cure’ or not.

Kaede had to hand it to the little rabbit. She’d gotten it, this time. Of all the times to grow a little cotton brain, it had to be now!

_Monokuma, save me… I believed in you so much! You’ve gotta come help me now!_

“A-Assuming any of that shit works like it’s supposed to!” Kaede spat to the side. “T-That’s what I think of your flashback lights, Usami! Ha ha…. Come on, guys! I’m serious! Think about what you’re doing.”

“We _have_ thought it through,” Ryoma said. “If it’s possible that there’s something in there that’ll help me remember a reason for living? It’s worth all the risks.”

_How selfish._

“Y-You all…?”

Nobody replied to her.

Kaede turned to the strawberry. “H-Himiko. Can you really say this disease has been all bad?! I mean, look at how you’re doing now. Nobody can tell you what to do! They’re all afraid of your power! What if that power is erased, like I’m going to be?! You’re cool with this?!”

Himiko wouldn’t even meet her eyes. “I won’t lose my powers, even if this works. Because I’m a Mage.”

_Come on! You’ve got enough power to make these morons do whatever you want! You’ve got the power to save me, even from that Usami. But you’re **weak** , little girl! You’re weak like Shuichi._

Even crying didn’t work very well on these bastards, since they’d gotten used to Kaede’s crocodile-tears routine by now. That was a big part of why any amount of theatrics or pleading wouldn’t work, either.

It was the girl who cried wolf.

Now, the wolf had its jaws around her head.

She could feel it salivating.

She could feel her sins crawling up her back.

“W-What about all the others? The wounded, the people that didn’t come?” Kaede demanded. “Huh?! This is so sudden!”

“Everyone with the Despair Disease is here, we can worry about general distribution later,” Sakura said, while keeping her pouting, scantily-clad girlfriend at arm’s length. “If it will make Hina safe and healthy, then we cannot delay any longer. I will not say whether your claims are right or wrong, Kaede. However, I am sorry.”

_Sorry?!_

Sorry _won’t stop Usami!_

_Your apologies are **worthless** to me, you stupid hunk of meat!_

Apparently, nothing but her own eyelids could save her now.

“I’m not looking,” Kaede huffed. “It doesn’t matter what you do. A-Are you guys really gonna pry my eyes open, like a Clockwork Orange or something? Are you that heartless? Don’t you care at all?”

“That will hardly be necessary,” Usami explained, tone grim and serious for once. “Enough of the light passes through your eyelids, that it’ll work just the same. I am sorry, too, Kaede. But this is the only way to make you well again.”

“I guess if it never made sense to begin with, nonsense explanations are par for the course,” Miu-Chiaki cackled. “Fuck it, let’s do this! I’m tired of being a fat uggo 'real gaymer' bitch!”

_There's **nothing** wrong with me!_

_I’m just not who you all want! I don’t meet your expectations, so you wipe me out just like that?! Bastards! At least I don’t_ pretend _to be any better!_

“Yeah, sorry it has to be this way.” Angie patted her on the head. “You’ll be glad we did this, Kaede. Once it’s over, we’ll look back on this and laugh!”

“Nobody’s laughing tonight,” One of the Byakuya Brothers said. “After all that’s happened, it’s why we can’t allow selfish defiance. Or any more threats to the group.” That sure sounded like just another lame justification to do what they were all gonna do anyhow.

“If you’re all so sorry, then don’t do this! I’m serious! This is _murder_ , you guys! You’re all just gonna let her-”

_Click._

_That_ Kaede was eradicated from this world.

What she saw in her dying dreams, what all the others saw, wasn’t what was advertised.

It wasn’t a vision to restore hope.

It was a nightmare worse than any the feverish Kaede could have envisioned.


	23. 2-15b. To Survive II [Recovered Document]

**Ultimate Killing Game, Recording Transcript**  
The Execution of **Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer**  
November 4th, 2026

 **Chiaki Nanami** : Mukuro, what’s going on?!  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Let me go, please…  
**Chiaki Nanami** : You’re hurting me!

_[Two subjects appear. **Mukuro** **Ikusaba** is restraining **Chiaki** **Nanami**. When they approach, Mukuro tosses Chiaki into an elevator, and closes it behind her. The elevator begins to descend, and a screen appears inside. Monokuma is on it.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : Monokuma! What did you do to Mukuro?!  
**Monokuma** : _Upupu_. I think you’d better sort out your own affairs before you worry about poor little Mukuro.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Why did she take me here? What are you gonna do?  
**Monokuma** : Isn’t it _painfully_ obvious?  
**Chiaki Nanami** : The time limit!  
**Monokuma** : No, no, no! Well, that’s what I’ll tell everybody else. That this is the price for your defiance. But just between you and me? It’s just because you saw something you _really_ shouldn’t have.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : You don’t mean…

_[The screen shifts, and **Junko Enoshima**  appears.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : I knew I saw you earlier! Junko. I can’t believe it’s really you. It’s been you, all this time? Since the very start?  
**Junko Enoshima** : Yeaaaaah. Sorry, but it’s true. I really spoiled the big twist.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : You’re our friend! You’re an Ultimate too! How could you do this?!  
**Junko Enoshima** : Who better to lead this trainwreck of a ‘movement’? I’ve been privy to every HPA and Future Foundation secret, more or less. Made it real easy to dance around those clowns.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Then. All that time we’ve spent together…? The classes, living in the dorms, getting to know each other in here too?  
**Junko Enoshima** : Lies.  
**Junko Enoshima** : All of it.  
**Junko Enoshima:** Duh.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : You… that’s impossible. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.  
**Junko Enoshima:** Of all the things people have trouble accepting, the idea that they got conned?  
**Junko Enoshima:** That’s the worst one of all.  
**Junko Enoshima:** You’re like the old lady who gets swindled but can’t go to the police, because that would be admitting she was a sucker. So instead she insists ‘he was a really nice young man, and it definitely worked as advertised’.  
**Junko Enoshima:** Sorry this is so sudden, but you’d better make peace with the cold, hard truth.

 _[The elevator arrives at the bottom floor with a_ ding _.]_

 **Junko Enoshima:** Because you’re running out of time, real fast.

_[The doors of the elevator open up into a darkened hallway. Lights click on, illuminating the metal maze ahead, spaced out with flatscreen displays. All showing Junko Enoshima’s glowering face.]_

**Junko Enoshima** : I’ve been waiting to test this system out for so damn long.  
**Junko Enoshima** : But none of you would just fucking kill each other!  
**Chiaki Nanami** : What… is all this?  
**Junko Enoshima** : A little game we’re going to play. You love your games, right? Right. It’s suuuuper simple. If you make it to the other end alive, you win.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : I win?  
**Junko Enoshima** : Specifically, on the other end of this deadly maze is an exit to the outside world. If you make it out there alive, you’re the winner.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Hell, not just you. I’d say all your pals win, too. The Future Foundation is already knocking at my door. This should be the final piece they need to find this place and swoop in.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Big damn rescue.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Total defeat for the mean old Mastermind.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Yours truly.

_[The distant humming of machinery and the whine of buzzsaws can be heard. Chiaki stares ahead for several seconds.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : Is that the catch?  
**Junko Enoshima** : Well they don’t call it an ‘ **execution** ’ for nothing, honey!  
**Chiaki Nanami** : E-Execution?!  
**Junko Enoshima** : I won’t lie to you. At least, not anymore. It’s gonna suck. But there is a chance for victory. It’s not totally impossible, if you really are the Ultimate Gamer.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : How do I know there’s an exit? That there’s any chance to get through this?  
**Junko Enoshima** : The viewers are gonna find it a lot more thrilling if you have even an ice cube’s chance in Hell to make it out, then if it was impossible. That, and I’ll find it exciting, too. You know my style by now. Or, you should.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : The _viewers_? If this is being seen, then everyone will know that you...  
**Junko Enoshima** : You’re so thoughtful, Chiaki! Don’t worry. Monokuma’s gonna be hosting the live broadcast of your execution. Trivial for somebody of my hopeless talents. Oh, and don’t bother trying to go “It’s Junko Enoshima!” You’ll get censored by the network.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Sooo. Any questions before we begin?~ I want this to be a fantastic trial run.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Just one. Hajime. What happened when you… when the Monokumas took him away? Is he…  
**Junko Enoshima** : Oh, _he’s_ alive and well. Where? You’ll have to survive to find that one out! Upupupu.

_[Traps, cages, and spears jut out from the walls of the maze at irregular intervals, alongside gouts of flame and currents of visibly-arcing electricity.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : There’s no choice, then.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : I’m ready.

_[Surveillance cameras come to life and focus in on different parts of the maze. The live broadcast begins at this point, with Monokuma standing in and pitch-shifting Junko’s voice.]_

**Junko Enoshima** : Gather your courage, ye brave warrior of hope! Step forward.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Brave the **Death Road of Despair**!  
**Junko Enoshima** : **If ye dare!**

_[I’m omitting the next 12.3 minutes of footage. It’s really not helpful. If for some reason you need access to the specifics, message me at Department 10 for my personal decryption code. - AE]_

_[Chiaki collapses from blood loss and injuries. The live broadcast feed cuts out at this point. The surveillance cameras return to closed-circuit mode.]_

**Junko Enoshima** : Can we get an F in chat?  
**Junko Enoshima** : Got closer than I expected.  
**Junko Enoshima** : It was only like, another four kilometers.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Ah well, at least I know…. Uh. Izzy, what are you doing in there?!

_[ **Izuru Kamukura** emerges from the shadows, standing over Chiaki’s bloody, mangled body.]_

**Izuru Kamukura** : She’s still alive.

_[Chiaki stirs, and lifts her head.]_

**Junko Enoshima** : Uh, _chyeah_. But for how much longer? _That’s a lotta damage!_ I hope you’re not thinking about having a Change of Heart this late in the game.  
**Junko Enoshima** : That card’s been Limited for decades!  
**Chiaki Nanami** : H-Hajime...?  
**Junko Enoshima** : What.  
**Junko Enoshima** : How the fuck did you figure that one out?!  
**Chiaki Nanami** : You just… told… me…  
**Junko Enoshima** : Uh.  
**Junko Enoshima** : Well.  
**Junko** **Enoshima** : You’re gonna die!  
**Junko Enoshima** : So, who really wins here, huh?!  
**Junko Enoshima** : Izuru, how did she find out. Did you let something slip while you were pretending to be that loser?  
**Junko Enoshima** : If so, literally why?!  
**Junko Enoshima** : I know that it’s impossible for you to do something ‘accidentally’.

_[Chiaki reaches up weakly for Izuru, who stands unmoved. Her blood-soaked hand lands on his polished leather shoes, smearing them with blood.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : I’m sorry…  
**Izuru Kamukura** : Why?  
**Chiaki Nanami** : I couldn’t save… you…  
**Izuru Kamukura** : Hajime Hinata couldn’t have been saved. He was dead long before we met. Everything you knew was a lie.  
**Chiaki Nanami** : I… see… Hahaha...

_[Chiaki collapses. Shivering, crying.]_

**Chiaki Nanami** : Please help me…  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Hajime… Izuru… whoever…  
**Chiaki Nanami** : Oh God, it hurts…  
**Chiaki Nanami** : _I don’t want to die..._

_[Chiaki stops moving. Izuru crouches down, and retrieves her Galaga hair-pin. He leaves with it clutched in his left hand, visibly crying as well. Saying nothing.]_

**Junko Enoshima:** Get back to the command center, lover boy. On the double! We need to have a serious fucking chat about ‘operational security’.  
**Junko Enoshima:** Mookie will be there, too. We need a new plan.  
**Junko Enoshima:** While we still have the rest of these bargaining chips.


	24. 2-15c. Please Insert Coin (Chiaki)

They hadn’t watched it from the perspective of some camera, or seen a recording or transcript of the events.

There was no detached, distant clinical perspective to be had.

Thanks to the flashback light, every single person present had the experience of _being_ Chiaki Nanami.

Of living her life, feeling what she felt, thinking what she thought, knowing what she knew.

As she was brutally murdered.

The last embers of her life flickered away in some unknown place deep underground, surrounded by her enemies. Broadcast live on TV throughout the world, and throughout the Ultimate Killing Game compound, as a lesson in despair.

The lesson was effective.

Most especially on Chiaki Nanami herself.

_What was that?_

_I’m… dead?_

_That’s impossible._

_If I’m dead, then how am I here right now?_

_Who am I? What am I?_

When she regained her senses, the Ultimate Gamer was back in her own body. For whatever that mattered.

Chiaki doubled over, and threw up.


	25. 3-1a. Jailhouse Diaries (Kyouko)

Those who knew weren’t talking. Those who talked spoke nonsense.

To start with, Kyouko Kirigiri went for the nonsense.

She pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at a patient who was handcuffed to his own hospital bed. One of two such patients-under-guard, who had been involved in violent incidents, but had themselves been injured in the process.

Life was funny like that.

Kyouko might have seen the humor, if she hadn’t nearly died, getting involved in a scuffle with a world-infamous serial killer.

All thanks to the man in that bed.

Nagito Komaeda was a bandaged wreck, but awake and conscious.

“Before we begin, I want to make something clear.”

Nagito smiled gently. “Lemme guess. You won’t tolerate lies or tricks?”

“Wrong.” Kyouko flipped a bang aside with a hand covered with her usual dark-purple studded leather gloves. “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. Whether it’s a lie, or the truth. I’ll listen without bias and judge for myself later. That’s my promise to you, and the reason you should tell me what’s really going on.”

Nagito wasn’t expecting anything resembling understanding. Or objectivity. Especially from her. Even he knew he had no right to demand such things anymore. Yet they were being offered, anyhow.

Whether or not it was the truth, it was an offer he wouldn’t get elsewhere.

_Sayaka taught me something important. Grace isn’t something that’s ‘earned’. It’s freely given, especially when you don’t feel you deserve it._

“With that said. Why did you do it?”

Nagito looked aside with a sigh. “I believe I talked about my motives already, during the incident.”

Kyouko tapped her chin. “You essentially said that you want to bring despair on this island. So that the Ultimates can turn it all into hope. So, the more despair, the more hope in the end. Is that still your answer?”

“Why should it change? It’s not something I just made up off the top of my head, you know! I’ve thought for a long time about this. About how a lowly, wretched human like me could best be of service to the shining beacons that are the Ultimates.”

Kyouko had taken to using a notepad, Shuichi’s influence. She glanced up from it to meet his eyes. “Your goal is to help everyone by hurting them as badly as you possibly can.”

“If you want to boil it down like that. I know it sounds absurd.”

“Explain it to me so that it _doesn’t_ sound absurd.”

Nagito sighed again, like what he had to deal with was just so tiresome. It definitely wasn’t the fawning obedience Kyouko expected, with the way he ranted about the superiority of the Ultimates. His behavior was an exercise in contradiction.

_That just means he’s hiding a deeper truth somewhere underneath._

Kyouko would dig until she saw sunlight.

Or until she hit the ribs.

“Usami talked about rehabilitation. But all she offered was a stagnant paradise. Everything according to her rules. A place for everyone, and everyone in their place. Compared to what Monokuma could have given us, which do you think would force the Ultimates to develop their power? A peaceful paradise, or a deadly competition?”

Kyouko couldn’t help but add, “With the caveat that the ones who died wouldn’t be developing anything.”

“A sacrifice, sure! But it’s only through sacrifice that humanity moves forward! Time, energy, resources, money, lives. It’s only through struggle and conflict that anything ever gets done! If you sit around doing nothing, you’ll degenerate. Not just physically. If you don’t use it, you’re going to lose it!”

Kyouko shook her head. “We’ve been keeping busy so far. Usami set goals for us. More than that, we’ve been exploring the mysteries of this place. Uncovering new areas. Working to build a livable society here.”

“I don’t want to discount those efforts! You were there, you saw how much I helped out. It wasn’t just to get people to see me as helpful. I don’t care if people love or hate me. In fact, hating me is probably better. As befitting lowly trash like myself!”

“But…?”

“You all could be so much more than you are! I’ve seen it. You have the potential. The Ultimates can grow past this, and overcome even the madness of the Ultimate Hunt. In fact, in the end… it’s the Ultimates who are going to survive. Not ordinary, talentless, worthless people! You’ll rise above their level and endure the great hardships to come! You’ll wipe them out completely, and bring a new order to this world! An order where the talented are justly rewarded, and the inferior mass of people know their place.”

Kyouko made sure to dutifully record his insane, fascist ramblings, scarcely offering a comment, until he finally ran out of steam.

“Just one more question. What about Chiaki, and Hajime?”

Nagito’s face twisted from enthusiasm to something that looked like genuine regret. “I know that I don’t have any right to make requests, but please. Tell them both that I’m so sorry. I tried not to get them involved with a person like me. I wasn’t strong enough to resist,though, and so I’ve end up hurting them deeply. At least now I can hope they’ll move on and be happier together.”

_Interesting. You really don’t know._

_Let’s keep it that way, for now._

“Is that all?”

“I’m also sorry for taking up so much of your time. I hope I was able to be useful in some small way.”

Kyouko nodded. As if there had been any point to the past, what, half an hour? “Thank you for your cooperation. I can’t promise it’ll result in better treatment, but…”

“Oh, please don’t worry about that at all,” Nagito assured her, voice as smarmy as ever. It was difficult to judge how he was actually feeling when his tone was so disdainful. “I don’t mind what happens to me. As long as I’m fed and have somewhere to rest. Even that’s purely optional, really. This little life of mine isn’t worth consideration!”

Hopefully, that was just a lie.

Something _was_ wrong with him, though.

Perhaps some kind of martyr or messiah complex gone horribly wrong.

He might have looked down on others. More than anything, Nagito really, truly hated himself.

There was a method to his madness, though. Kyouko was convinced of that by the time their interview concluded. It wasn’t a method she’d be rushing to agree with or promote. It came from a system of values alien to any sane person. However, that just made it more important for Kyouko to understand this talk of ‘a shining hope’.

_Makoto is an eternal optimist, but he’s nothing like you. He respects the value of human life, he sees people as valuable, as worth saving._

_It may not be entirely your fault, though. Especially if what Mikan told me in confidence turns out to be true. If the Ultimate Psychiatrist or Therapist had made it to this island, could we have offered you the help you needed…?_

_None of us were prepared for this._

_Usami claims to be some kind of therapist running a therapy program on us, but the benefit of it has yet to be evidenced._

_Usami also knows whether these prisoners are lying or not, and simply won't tell me. Some guardian._

As she was leaving, Nagito called out ot her one last time. “Oh, and please, convey my deepest apologies to Makoto, too. I’m sorry for what he went through, and the burden he had to carry all this time. The disgusting knowledge that I was really like this. And, directly to you. I’m sorry about what happened to Sayaka, too. I’m aware that on some level I’m responsible for that incident, too.”

Kyouko fought to keep her jaw from clenching. There had been no way to keep that incident totally from Nagito’s notice, given all the wounded people who had to be rushed to the hospital.

“You are.”

Kyouko left, not sticking around for any more pearls of poisonous wisdom.

While Nagito presented less physical threat than the serial killers he’d enabled and provoked, Kyouko would have to think about allowing him visitation rights.

Against somebody who was less well-equipped to handle him, he could whisper poison in their ears with just a few well-chosen words. He’d displayed a great aptitude for that form of manipulation lately.

_It could be dangerous to let the others see him freely._

_Or even for the wrong person to bring him food, and get an earful of this lovely ideology._

-

“In the criminal justice system, people had a right to face their accusers, and know what they were being accused of in exact terms.”

Kyouko walked into the double-reinforced cell. She glanced up at the person being held in full-body restraint, as she was for about twenty two-hours of any given day. A horrifying containment worse than death, and something that nobody should have to endure for any reason.

A necessary measure to keep an allegedly genocidal maniac detained. Somebody whose malice and madness threatened the lives of everyone on the island.

Junko Enoshima was held upright by restraints, wrapped in a straight-jacket, muzzled, wrapped tightly like a mummy. Kyouko couldn’t help but think of Shuichi and Nagito, up on those crosses.

“I believe that right still holds, even here. Even for you, Junko. Makoto!”

Kyouko addressed the nearest of several cameras that enveloped the entire cell in overlapping fields of view. They all had rotary chainguns mounted beneath them, loaded with bullets the size of Kyouko’s fist.

The guns were fully automated, and cleared for firing at the slightest provocation.

“Release all restraint, and have the autoguns go to level two standby.”

When Makoto, in the control room, didn’t do that, Kyouko sighed. She explained, for the benefit of both the prisoner and her assistant.

“That means they won’t shoot you if you move. Only if you come within one meter of me. I promise, I’m not the one in danger here.”

_Click._

Junko let out a sigh of relief, and stretched out once the restraints snapped off and fell away. She could stand on her own two feet, although there was some wobbling. “I never thought it was possible to get more bored. But holy shit, these past two weeks have been miserable.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

The fashionista waved her own human suffering and misery off. “Don’t be. In a way, for somebody who thinks as fast as I do, being trapped without stimulus is Hell. It’s the worst. I get to enjoy just endless despair. That I’ve been defeated, that everyone hates me, that I can't even know what’s going on…. Good shit.”

She was drooling.

_What **are** you?_

“So, anyhow. Watcha got there, Kyouko darling? A flashback light?”

“The one Usami used to cure the Despair Disease,” Kyouko nodded. “It also showed us what you supposedly did to Chiaki.”

Junko sighed. “I kinda figured that’s what it was. I wasn’t for-sure, but you guys flipped on a dime on me.”

_You don’t sound terribly surprised. I suppose if one had the Ultimate Analytical Prowess, nothing could ever be a surprise._

_Except for despair._

“And on my worthless piece of trash sister, and that cosplay bitch, too.”

“I thought that the three of you were…” Kyouko searched for a proper word. “Involved closely.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t insult- Nevermind! I do not want to explain all my villainy right now. You’re supposed to be the one telling me. Come on, let’s light that bitch up!” Junko’s grin was predatory, in spite of her hopeless situation. Or because of it. She stood centimeters from death, and didn’t even back off, much less show any sign of intimidation.

“Besides, this will give you a chance to check whether I’m just crazy because I still have the DD, or whether I am in fact just Fifty-Three Hitlers.”

Kyouko nodded. “More or less. Very well. Brace yourself. This is… well, you should know.”

_Click._

Kyouko got to see what it was like for somebody else to see a flashback light without being hit by it herself, as it was pointed directly away from her eyes. She observed, and made sure the cameras recorded, what was going on. While Junko was the primary focus for this interview session, there was no reason she couldn’t gather data on these absurd lights too.

_Especially if my suspicions are correct. Then everything we might accept as ‘true’ could melt away._

For now, though, Kyouko had no choice but to rely on Usami’s ‘therapy tool’. It was certainly effective at purging Monokuma’s Despair Disease, which meant it had a provable and real effect. As for the rest, as for what was the truth, and what was a lie…

That remained to be seen.

The process lacked drama when Kyouko wasn’t the one having her mind messed with. Junko fell over as the technicolor, rainbow light passed over her and her eyes lit up. She passed out for a few moments, then stirred.

In that time, she’d seen a vision of horrors.

Perhaps the worst horror, seeing one’s self as a cackling evil murderous villain. From the perspective of one of her victims.

If anything was going to break Junko’s supervillain facade and reveal even a sliver of the real truth, this was the very instant it would happen.

Kyouko wouldn’t miss any detail.

If there had been any to miss. Everything that happened afterwards was very dramatic. Junko’s laughter filled the cell. Loud, boisterous.

Proud.

“I guess there’s no point even trying to deny it, huh?” She said, rising to her feet, eyes a swirl of pure despair and insanity. “Looks like ya got me.”

“I’ve… got you?”

“I’ll give you better than some obscure ‘clue’ or ‘hint’, babe. But just because you’re hot. I’m totally willing to like, videotape a full confession of my crimes! It might take a while, though, because, uh. Wow. I skullfucked this world. Ultimate Hunt, Ultimate Despair, Remnants of Despair… yep. It was me.”

“You were the cause for the incident known as **the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history**?”

“Yep.”

Kyouko stared. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I mean, like. I know it’s a pretty big thing to try to take in, Kiri, but really. My disease symptom was like a few others’. It wasn’t about changing my personality. It was about restoring my memories in full. No more Usami bullshit, no more fluffy love-love. Just the hopeless fuckin’ truth. Yeah, boi!”

“In which case, you still retain those memories now that the light is over?”

Junko cackled. “Every fucking moment of it!”

“And you’re proud of what you’ve done, and don’t care who knows it?”

“Damn right!”

Kyouko stared at her.

‘Then why are you crying?”

“Oh, sorry!” Junko blinked rapidly, clearing away the small tears that had welled up in her wide, psychotic eyes. It was a small thing, but both the cameras, and Kyouko, had caught it. “I just had to keep myself from cry-laughing at how naive you turned out to be. Doctor Eggman really did have a bad influence on you.”

“Is that so?’

Junko glared at her, rapidly switching personalities yet again. “You stink. You absolutely fucking reek of the most horrible sewage imaginable. Hope. Get out of here, before I take you hostage and force them to let me out.”

Kyouko shrugged.

“Try it.”

Your crimes are alleged to be on a scale so vast, the human mind can’t understand it. Yet, you’re not half as intimidating as Genocider up close.

Junko grumbled. “I don’t want either of us to die just yet, though.”

_As I thought. Whatever else is true or false, you haven’t begun to fight. You haven’t implemented whatever plan you have. You’re waiting for something._

_That will give us time to figure out the truth._

-

Mukuro Ikusaba, despite being the Ultimate Soldier, was kept in different conditions. She merited a bed to sit on, although the cell was otherwise devoid of objects. Its barren steel walls and tiny, barred window up top were inhospitable and cruel, but probably no worse than she’d endured at various points of her ‘interesting’ life in service.

Gun turrets still watched her, the only thing with good enough reflexes.

Not that she could do anything from behind those bars. Mukuro herself had tested the prison with military-grade ordinance.

When Kyouko came into view, Mukuro sat up. “Is Junko okay?” She asked.

She asked that every time.

“Not mentally,” Kyouko said. “However, she’s not been harmed, or been allowed to harm anyone else.”

“I don’t suppose I could ask to see her.”

She asked _that_ every time, too.

“I’m sorry, but I still can’t allow that,” Kyouko said. “I could show you video footage of the interview, but that could be faked. We had a whole trial to establish that.”

“If you say it, then I’ll believe it,” Mukuro said.

What kind of attitude was that, for a world-infamous terrorist?

“I’ll get right down to it,” Kyouko said. “You aren’t insane, so I need your help. And you need my help. It’s in the best interests of everyone, especially Junko, that you cooperate fully. Tell me everything you know.”

A simple statement of fact from Kyouko’s view. To Mukuro, it was an attack. Her gaze turned hard, and she shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter what you say or do. I can’t ever betray Junko.”

Kyouko said, “You already betrayed your sister. In spectacular fashion.”

“That wasn’t the same. I went against her wishes, but only because of the Despair Disease. She wasn’t in her right mind. I still did what was best for Junko. To avoid the consequences of her rampage.”

“Now that she’s in the Brig, you think it can’t get any worse for her?” Kyouko shook her head. “It can get much worse.”

Mukuro’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and her icy-blue eyes locked onto Kyouko.

“You wouldn’t do anything to a helpless prisoner. I’ve been captured before, I can tell who has the stomach and who doesn’t.”

_Obviously. Torture is both wildly unethical, and it doesn't work. The only end to which inflicting pain can be used is to inflict pain._

“Enough of this emotional outburst,” Kyouko said. “It doesn’t suit you. You know I can be trusted, and you know I’ll investigate the situation to find the truth. No matter how horrible that truth might be. Now that Junko has lost, the best course of action for her wellbeing is to talk.”

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Try me,” Kyouko said.

The Ultimate Detective took a seat.

“I don’t remember anything relating to these allegations, and it’s all completely insane. Neither I, nor Junko, know this Izuru Kamukura. I certainly don’t remember him, or working with him. I don’t know why Junko has gone crazy, which is why I sought help from you and Shuichi. I thought she was better, clearly she isn’t.”

Mukuro closed her eyes, and waited for the inevitable follow-up, for the angry accusations.

Which never came.

“It’s possible you’re lying, or telling the truth,” Kyouko said. “With your demeanor, there would be very few tells. It’s a question of what’s in your head. However, you know I’m right about working together, and you’re not stupid. I’ll believe in that, and believe in you.”

In that cell, between two razor-sharp women who didn’t show gusts of emotion or flights of fancy, that was the very last thing Mukuro expected. She stared in disbelief.

“There was a time where I’d assume you were lying and concealing the truth. I was a weaker person in that time. Regardless, if you don’t know what’s going on, and aren’t a member of that horrifying group, that means you’d be willing to cooperate. Correct?”

“I didn’t fight back when you arrested my sister, or her lover. Or me,” Mukuro said.

“I’m glad nobody has had to die so far, but if somebody doesn’t start talking, I can’t guarantee the rest of the group will be so open to reason,” Kyouko said, bluntly. “I want to avoid rash actions or punishments, or anything that can’t be taken back. For that, I’ll need many things. You answering honestly was one. The other is your agreement to act as my agent.”

“Agent? As in, work for you?”

“If and when the time comes, you’ll have to work with us, and against Junko’s wishes again. I know you’re capable of doing it. You’ve been a great help. In fact, you’ve done nothing but help us. Even with the operation to trick Fuyuhiko and Peko. Something everyone else will be quick to forget. But they won’t forget if you help us now.”

Mukuro was silent for a long time.

Then, she relented.

“Tell me what you want, specifically.”

“I won’t know until the time comes. For now, we have to wait for the results of the investigation. And I’ve got more work to do. All I’m really asking you to do is what you’ve done before. If the chance arises… Thank you.”

“You were right,” Mukuro shrugged. “This is the smart move. That’s all. If the circumstances were different, you’d be dead where you stand.”

_Keep telling yourself that._

_You’ve already proven that you’re your own person now. You’re not as much Junko’s property as you were. As you might wish, even. You’re never going to go back to the way things are._

_None of us can turn back time._

-

At least Nagito had been forthcoming.

 _This one_ would be a big problem if he kept tight-lipped. That much was evident from his disconcerting appearance alone.

The man sitting in Hajime’s prison cell looked nothing like him at all, except in physical build. The black suit and tie he wore made even that much hard to determine. It blended with his extremely long, flowing black hair to form a single mass of darkness. Broken only by the pale skin of his impassive, emotionless face. The only points of color were those red eyes.

Red eyes that peered out. Measuring. Judging. never showing the slightest sign of emotional reaction. Whatever was really going on beneath the surface, Izuru Kamukura clearly had a talent for keeping it all bottled up.

“Should I call you Hajime, or Izuru?” Kyouko asked him, taking a seat on a folding chair and crossing her legs.

“Hajime Hinata died along ago,” The prisoner said in Hajime’s voice, but in a manner he’d never spoken with. His voice was breathy and languid. “Izuru Kamukura is the name I was given.”

“Who gave you that name?”

“ **My teachers.** The people who created me no doubt thought it was fitting. An embodiment of the goals of Hope’s Peak Academy, named after its beloved founder. How boring.”

“You don’t like that name?”

“I was referring to you.”

You’ll have to do better than that. I’ve been called a lot worse than ‘boring’ from the other side of metal bars before.

“To me?”

Izuru stared a hole through her. “It wouldn’t be difficult for even a talentless person to tell why you’re here. Spare _me_ the bother, and ask your questions.”

“Will you answer them?”

“You have but one way to find out.”

Was his manner completely straightforward, as it appeared? Or was this some kind of psychological tactic? An inverse to Nagito’s word-salad approach to ideology? In fact, more than anything a suspect did, Izuru’s stony silence, supplemented by non-helpful non-answers, strongly reminded Kyouko of police procedure.

Once literally putting the screws to a prisoner was no longer acceptable, methods were quickly sought to do so psychologically.

_Remaining silent in an adversarial situation gives you the advantage._

_That’s why the Constitution gives you that right._

_Back in Japan, anyway. Out here, your rights extend exactly as far as a musician, an animal breeder, and a hall monitor say they do._

“Have you been lying to us the entire time? Covering up your real personality?”

Izuru shot back, “What do you think?”

“I doubt it. Even the Ultimate Actor would have trouble keeping everything together, with no flaws.”

“My capabilities allow me to do many things flawlessly. It would be quicker to list the things I could not do.”

_Humble, too._

“Does breaking out from an invincible prison number among your abilities?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

_Kiyo and Touko and even Nagito were all creeps beforehand, to put it bluntly. Junko was insane, Mukuro a living weapon. Tsumugi fanatically devoted. You, Hajime. You’re the outlier._

_I’ll give the others their fair shake. But you’re the one I have trouble buying as a traitor._

_Even if that’s just because I don’t want to think you’ve been lying to us all this time._

Kyouko didn’t give an inch. Much as this man made her skin crawl. Much as she burned to get some real answers from him. Much as she needed to understand why the man who’d been such a big help, such a pillar in the community, had turned out like this.

“You could have a way to get out, and simply have chosen not to. Maybe you want to see how things play out. Or you’re biding your time. Or you’re waiting for something.”

“There’s nothing to wait _for._ **The events of this story have already unfolded** ,” Izuru said. “All that’s left is your realization, and the reaction to the truth.”

“If that’s true, and you don’t want to be bored, you could just tell us what you know, and speed things along. It’s evident you know more than you’re letting on.”

Hajime nodded. “I could tell you. But I won’t.”

He didn’t, either.

Applying pressure, appealing to reason, appealing to their friendship and the time they spent together in Amnesiacs Anonymous, it was all pointless.

Black absorbed light, and in the same way, Izuru absorbed everything he was hit with.

Nothing bounced back off, there was no reaction. None of the useful tricks of policing mattered at all to his psyche.

He said nothing more.

When Kyouko returned to the Warden’s office, Himiko was there, watching on the monitors with Makoto.

_I don't know how you stopped her from going in there, Makoto. But thank you._

“I’m sorry,” Kyouko said. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to visit him now, Himiko.”

“He’s no threat to somebody of my magical power.”

_I’d rather not find out if that’s true or not._

“I understand that you want to help Hajime, to repay the favor he did for you.” Kyouko shook her head. “It’s admirable. But in this case, we need to wait. Just like he’s waiting.”

The mage grumbled, but she went along with it. For now.

_I don’t want to see what happens if Himiko gets angry and goes after the prison. What would break first, the impossible force or the immortal object?_

“What do you think he’s waiting _for?”_ Himiko asked.

“He said it. Our reaction, to… something ahead. Something we’re going to learn.”

Himiko scrunched up her face. “What could be worse than the meteors, the Hunt, all that garbage? The world’s literally ended.”

Wrong use of literally, but Himiko could also turn her into a frog, so Kyouko said nothing. Not to mention, the little mage was right in the big picture.

_What’s so much worse than all this? When will we learn it? Who’s been keeping it from us? What does Izuru expect to happen when we learn it? If he’s part of that group, the Ultimate Despair, then it’s safe to say he’s waiting for us to fall into despair._

_Keep waiting, then._

_Sayaka, Makoto, and myself have all risked our lives to protect our friends. We’ll fight against this supposed despair, no matter what comes our way._

_The truth can never hurt you; only set you free._


	26. 3-4a. I Am Alive (Chiaki)

Nobody quite knew what to do with Chiaki.

Including Chiaki herself.

Somebody, probably Kokichi, had even floated the idea of locking her up. Since she was clearly a Cylon.

Chiaki would have found that really funny. If she hadn’t been forced to experience her own death. Alongside her friends, who all felt the same thing. After she learned that both of the men she’d grown closer to and put her trust in were accused of horrifying things.

As it was, she had trouble laughing.

Kind of a rough week.

As befit a corpse, she just shambled through her days since that incident. Sleeping longer wasn’t just cute little quirk or ‘just’ chronic insomnia anymore, now it was a defense mechanism.

When she dreamed, it was of fun games and the peaceful times before.

When she was awake, all she saw was the vision from that flashback light.

Over and over.

Chiaki did her best to sleep as much as possible, and nobody disturbed her from her torpor. Nobody had any clue how to handle this. While Kokichi’s suggestion was out of line and nobody agreed with it, Chiaki knew others were thinking something along the same lines as her.

_If Chiaki Nanami died during the last Killing Game in the past, then who am I? What am I?_

It was always possible that the flashback light was just a lie. Why would anybody cook up such a cruel lie? What purpose could possibly be served? Who would benefit from convincing people of these terrible things, that their friends were apparently monsters, that Chiaki was already dead?

Chiaki needed answers, and there were two beings on the island now who could tell her. Monokuma wouldn’t be any help, even if the answers she wanted were bound to be full of despair. He would still twist things, just like he’d somehow done to Hajime.

That just left one thing to do.

To call out Usami in the dead of night. Using the island’s systems, whatever they were, to get the stuffed rabbit to come.

“I know you can hear me. Usami, please talk to me.”

_Bwoing._

“Chiaki, what are you doing out on the beach at this hour?”

Chiaki didn’t look at Usami, she just kept scanning over the tangled mass of wreckage. Landing craft washed up on the beach, tanks and trucks shattered to pieces, big steel traps littering the sand, massive craters everywhere. Most of the small plushie bodies had been collected. And an Exisal stamped to and fro, scrapping large bits of debris.

“Usami, is what we saw in the flashback light all true?”

“While it wasn’t my intention to show you that yet, I can’t deny that it’s true. All of it. I’m sorry.”

“How?” Chiaki looked down at her own hands, and then reached up to pinch her cheek. “I’m alive. I’m still here. I don’t remember any of that, but if I died in that pit… What am I? I have no clue what to think. Please, help me.”

Other people might have had a far bigger reaction to this revelation.

It wasn’t that Chiaki wasn’t set adrift, it wasn’t that the walls of reality weren’t melting down around her. She was just more quiet and understated about expressing it. She had never been one to act up with big flashy displays or speeches.

Even in games, Charisma was her dump stat.

“If I tell you too much, it will just cause further problems,” Usami said. “I’m sorry, but I kept this information secret for a good reason. That’s all I can do. I ask that you and the others trust me. Until the time is right, as we agreed.”

Chiaki finally looked down at her. “You said you were here to protect us. What could be more important than our lives?”

“Putting an end to despair.”

“I thought the battle was over.”

Usami shook her head. “The battle never stopped. Not since that first day, when I blew away all those creeps. Ever since then, Monokuma has been gathering strength. Marshaling his power in the deepest recesses, on the edge of Gopher Island. Watching, planning. That’s why his schemes were so effective when he returned. Even now, he’s still trying to get into things he shouldn’t, trying to set my systems awry, and trying to tempt me into… drastic measures.”

“To destroy him for good?”

“To stop you all from learning the truth.” Usami shook her head. “So I had to cast that away. That urge to shield you from that horrible truth. Just like the Ultimates cast aside some of their secrets, I have to show Monokuma I’m not afraid. I have to have faith in you all, that you can handle it this time.”

_This time, huh?_

Chiaki didn’t get any of this.

She could barely handle her own feelings, the rush of questions, the anxiety that went deep into her soul now. The tingling she felt, the wounds that she could swear were breaking out all over her body.

Only for her to look down, and see that she was still here.

Intact, whole, hearty.

Breathing, heart beating, mind racing.

In every sense, _**alive.**_

It didn't matter what some memory thing said. Chiaki knew for a fact she was alive. She'd fight to stay that way, too. Alongside everyone else.

Alongside Hajime, when he came back to them.

“Why are you telling me these things so directly?” Chiaki asked. “Is our relationship different than between you and the others? Was it before I lost my memories? What did I forget?”

Usami didn’t say anything, looking up at the rarely-exposed full moon through a break in the endless clouds.

It was as beautiful as the twinkling, playful stars all around it.

“The most critical priority now is to **prevent the foul resurrection of the Ultimate Despair**. And with them, **the continuation of the Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event In Human History**. That’s what Monokuma wants. That’s why you all have to suffer. That’s why he interferes with everything I do. We can’t let that happen. _I won’t let it happen.”_

“Even if you have to do those ‘drastic things’?” Chiaki asked.

“... Everything is for the sake of a future filled with **shining hope**.”

Chiaki huffed softly, and kept walking along the beach.

_Life just got set to Insanity difficulty._

_Who should we really be afraid of, here? Who’s our enemy?_

_I never even got to ask her what really happened to Hajime. Not like she’d answer that, either._

_I might just have to go see him for myself. The man who stood there and watched me die._

_Izuru Kamukura._


	27. 3-4b. To Protect By Throwing Away (Fuyuhiko)

Nothing was more important than family to a yakuza.

If Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu was the Ultimate Yakuza, then he had to uphold that.

“Young Master. I know you’re upset.”

Understatement of the fucking century.

“I really hope that was just an act to get them to turn the cameras off.”

Not like they could actually trust all the bugs and cameras in his prison cell were off. They’d still have to speak in circles and play this stupid game. But it was all for the most important thing.

_Nothing in this world more important than family._

_Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth._

“Unfortunately, it was not.” Peko’s red eyes always focused on her target. She sized up everyone around her, always ready for a fight. To fulfill her role as bodyguard, she’d become cautious, even paranoid of others. Yet, alone with him, her guard was allowed to drop. Something uncomfortably genuine slipped into her deep, quiet voice. “Please, hate me as much as you like. We’ve gone this far, but it’s time to stop. It’s time to take Kaede’s offer while it’s still on the table.”

_I’m not gonna hate you, moron._

_Even if what you’re saying pisses me off._

_Give up? Stop?! Don’t fucking mess with me!_

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. How could you even say that, Peko? You know what’s at stake here!”

Fuyuhiko’s blood cried out for vengeance. Vengeance on that red-headed bitch, Mahiru Koizumi. He knew from his memories of that incident, what the press gave the gaudy title ‘Twilight Syndrome Murder Case’ back during their time at HPA, that the culprit was already dead. By his own hand, as it should have been.

He didn’t have any clue where the memories came from, at first, but now it was obvious. It had to be that disease. Same reason Mahiru got back her own memories. There was no other way to explain how the bitch started avoiding them. How she kept to herself, and even when Fuyuhiko tried to meet with her, she just wouldn’t.

Finally, he had to force the issue, because they had unresolved business. That black-haired cunt, Sato, was already out of the picture. He’d bashed out her brains in just the same way she’d done to poor Natsumi.

Sato’s _dear friend_ , though? The woman who helped her cover it all up? Who tried to sweep Natsumi’s death under the rug like she was just some trash being disposed of?!

Fuyuhiko could reach _her_.

If his arms weren’t so short, and the metal bars weren’t invincible.

They got _so close._

If only Fuyuhiko hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t tried to confront her, to confirm what he already knew deep down. If he just swung away with that bat, like he’d done before. They’d have had plenty of time to finish the job and get out. Even though they were trapped, Gopher Island was big. With so many islands open… there would have been places to run and hide. To fight back.

_A big reason I’m so pissed off is because I’m mad at myself. I botched it._

_Shit. Just because the rabbit let this stuff happen doesn’t mean she’d just let us go if we pulled it off. Maybe we were bound to end up here, or worse. But that don’t change our responsibility._

“I am fully aware of the stakes, which is why I’m doing this. I would never betray you,” Peko said impassively. “Doing so would invalidate my existence.”

“God damnit! Knock that shit off, would you.”

Not only might it give some clues to that ice-cold detective if she had something still snooping on them, but Fuyuhiko just never liked to hear that kind of shit coming from her.

He never liked to think about what it meant.

Peko shook her head, glaring at him with determination rather than reflecting his own anger. “If you are seen as a threat that can only be neutralized, I cannot save you. Not from all the Ultimates. Even if we got out of here, where would we go?”

_Somewhere. Anywhere!_

He couldn’t very well get his revenge sitting in this impossible fucking cell.

He’d tried all his tricks, and Peko had done her thing, too. They were prepared for the possibility that they’d get pinched, of course. Or just taken hostage by rival clans. In fact, that happened more than once. Resisting torture, and escaping captivity, were as easy for a yakuza as breathing.

Except when the bars were made of _fucking magic dust shat out from a stuffed animal._

They sure weren’t getting out of here by playing along with the people holding him and Peko captive, though. Peko might have wanted to protect him, but even pretending to go along with this shit…

Unacceptable.

“We just gotta wait for an opportunity,” Fuyuhiko said. “We gotta calm down and wait. Shit, if we have to lie, it might buy us just enough time to get out and-”

“No.” Peko shook her head. “You’re the one who needs to stop and think things through rationally. You’re letting hatred cloud your judgment. If you do not intend to cooperate honestly, tell Kyouko the truth, and abandon your plans for revenge, then I will stop you myself.”

“The _fuck_ you will.”

Fuyuhiko balled up a fist, and hit the wall.

Which didn’t care.

His hand did, though.

“Tch.”

Peko’s expression softened. “Please don’t do that.”

Fuyuhiko wanted to spit acid at Peko, but that was tough as usual. It wasn’t like he could ever say what he was really thinking to her. Even before they got to this fucked-up island, things between them... A normal person couldn’t imagine the way their lives had gone, growing up together.

“Heh. I guess we’re even, now.”

_I’ve seen Peko every single day of my life since I was born. Got the stupid baby photos Mom loves to wave around to prove it._

_If Peko is telling me to stop, if she can even stand up to me like this, then it means…_

Remembering the past just brought him back to memories of Natsumi.

Not the fondest of memories, but that just wasn’t the point. Blood was thicker than water. What a fucking annoying piece of shit excuse for an ‘Ultimate Little Sister’ she’d been.

She still deserved better than some failure of a brother who’d give up this easily.

Fuyuhiko let out a great deep sigh, and sat down on his cell’s bed.

“I’m sorry,” Peko said, looking away.

Fuyuhiko got up and paced around the cell, as Peko watched him in silence.

Then, he went over to the bars, and cleared his throat.

**“Hey, Kyouko! You can turn back on all the shit now!”**

The camera's green status light came back.

_Peko’s right, god damnit. It’s over. If I don’t have her by my side for this, it’s pointless._

_I’m sorry, Natsumi. I got no excuse. I couldn’t finish the job. You were a pain in my dick, but you deserved better._

_You deserved to live. You’d still be alive right now, if I’d only known what was going on in that damn Reserve Course…_

_Point is, I’m sorry. Peko’s right._

_She’s not thinking about this, but this is the only way she doesn’t get hurt. Even if she’d be cool with it, I’m not gonna sacrifice her for a memory._

_To feed my own guilt._

_Maybe that makes me a failure as a Yakuza. We both know you should have been the one here anyhow._

_Nothing I can do about it now._

_This don’t mean I’m gonna forgive her, ever. I don’t care if they lock me up and throw away the key, not really. But if stopping has even a chance to get Peko out of this, I gotta take it._

“Buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy,” Fuyuhiko said up to the humming camera. “I’ll tell you everything I remembered because of that disease. I don’t know much about the big picture, but I might be able to help.”

A speaker carried Kyouko’s voice through the cell.

_“Let’s find out.”_


	28. 3-5a. Thirty Percent Accuracy (Yasuhiro)

Yasuhiro Hagakure, sage of the modern era, once held this world in his hands.

The answers to everything, all so painfully obvious. A time of absolute clarity.

It was nothing more than a fleeting moment, though. It was stolen away. Replaced by that rabbit with confusion. And enormous mental trauma and suffering, as he experienced what it was like to be murdered. Slowly, methodically, sadistically.

Spoilers, it sucked.

At least Hiro knew what he’d had coming to him with all those debts.

That was fine, though. Hiro could just put it on the Trauma Pile with the rest of the horrible things he’d seen. Even with memories stolen by Usami, and others that were taken by the aliens, and the third group of memories further lost to legitimate prescribed medication…

In those lucid gaps in-between, Hiro saw some shit.

He did, after all, owe quite a lot of money to the Kuzuryuu Clan. Among other shadowy financiers in Japan’s criminal underbelly. Those other ones didn’t seem quite as threatening, though. What with the Pacific Ocean separating them at the very least, and maybe some others. Plus, the end of the world, which as expected, put a serious crimp in the financial sector and collections agencies.

Hiro hadn’t got a single bill since moving to Gopher Island. A miracle worth all the trouble and bother since then.

Hiro had always given Fuyuhiko a wide berth, though.

Not for the many other reasons others looked at the criminal midget with distrust. Hiro knew not to judge a book by its cover, that was illogical. Hiro took the far more rational route, and judged them instead by what his morning coffee said to him, enhanced by memories of the spirit walks he took while sleeping that night.

The coffee said to take heed and stay away.

Hiro was just worried that the Ultimate Yakuza wanted to come after him for payback. Either literally to be paid back all that money, and it was a fucking lot, or for the other things Hiro did in perfectly legal self-defense against those ‘collections agents’.

With Fuyuhiko’s arrest for attempted murder, though, things were looking up.

Now that he was behind bars, and an enemy of the group, Baby Gangster would have no chance to take his pound of flesh from Hiro. The Ultimate Clairvoyant wasn’t going to be like so many of the others, and get drawn into going near that depressing Brig, either.

Let somebody else know how it felt to be locked away and completely forgotten.

He was going to Nezumi Park, to find something incredibly important. Something once all but lost to the group, a treasure they’d recently regained.

Hina in a swimsuit.

Those Black Hats might have been wrapped up in BS occult beliefs, but they had some things right on the money. Hiro needed to go check out tonight’s evening prayer, which was never short on girls, who could be relied upon to always be short on clothes and long on friendly smiles. Yeah, they had a lot of things figured out over here.

The main event today was worth the hike across the bridges, even for somebody who was a conscientious objector to effort and work. Through the tangled, confusing maze-like paths of Nezumi Park, he picked his way with clarity, grace, and lots of time, until he found the right section of the island.

Turns out, it was the place with all the water.

While Ogre served as a lifeguard, Hiro got the impression it was more to keep people from staring too much. It wasn’t like Hina needed any help in the waterpark. That was like posting a lifeguard on a fish tank. So instead of looking like he was just gawking like an asshole, the Ultimate Clairvoyant took what scattered opportunities he could to strike up conversation.

With Hina, of course.

Not Ogre.

Hiro might have been in a good mood because he could finally be free of all those bothersome debts, but he wasn’t that foolishly friendly. Not to mention, he didn’t feel like being crushed into dust. Which was what ogres did to people who offended them.

That was a known fact, because Hiro had once seen it on a History channel special.

Where he got most of the factual education that had let him breeze into an institute like Hope’s Peak. His Ultimate-level talent to tell the future with a whopping thirty percent accuracy, well above the standard test deviation of twenty-five, probably helped, too.

“Makoto didn’t believe me either! Just you wait. My predictions are always accurate… thirty percent of the time.”

Hina rolled her eyes. “You’d sound a lot more convincing if you dropped the last part of that.”

She didn’t bother pulling herself out of the log flume track. It had the logs removed and served as a serviceable long, narrow swimming track. At least for somebody with an Ultimate-level swimming talent. Anyone else who wanted to follow her would have likely regretted the experience, and not just because of Ogre.

“But that would be dishonest, Hina! I can’t have people thinking I’m dishonest.”

Made an elaborate show of shrugging above the waterline, which did amazing things to that highleg leotard competition swimsuit. “I’ve got bad news for you, dude.”

“... Really? What’s gone wrong now? Man, we just can’t seem to catch a break, huh.”

Hina stared up at him for some reason. Maybe it was just fair, because he was staring back down at her, a lot. The lip of the log flume track was like the edge of a pool, and when she leaned on it with her chest, well.

That effect was spectacular, too. At least as an athlete, Hina understood the need for proper support for those massive puppies.

For somebody who had to be hydrodynamic, Hina was sure built with a lot of curves. In a way, that just made the swimming more impressive. She had a ton of drag force and buoyancy to fight against, but she made it look effortless. And kicked up tons of water accidentally, splashing Hiro over and over. How careless!

She never explained what that ‘bad news’ was, either. Hina was always so considerate. That’s why Hiro’d gotten annoy- er, grateful, and returned the favor, with some cold reading results for free.

Considering his normal prices, it was like giving away bars of solid gold.

“I can’t promise any higher than thirty percent, or else I’m gonna get sued again. But tell you what, I’ll give you another one for free. Makoto and I are totally gonna have the same mother for our children.”

Hina crinkled up her face. For once, something had come along that could, for a few moments, distract her from her love affair with water. “Really? You think so?”

“I’ve seen it with my third eye.”

“Where exactly is your third eye, anyhow?”

Hiro rolled his eyes. Sometimes, his classmates could be downright ignorant. Not even knowing that kind of basic thing, but they’d still call themselves Ultimates without shame? Well, he had to take pity on her.

“It’s not a _physical_ eye, Hina. It’s a metaphor for the second sight.”

“What exactly is a ‘second’ sight? What’s wrong with your first sight?”

Hiro glared. “Sometimes, the stuff that affects us in life can’t be seen with the naked eye! … Hey, are you makin’ fun of me?!”

Hina gave him puppy-dog eyes with those baby blues. “I’d never do that, Hiro. I’d never be sarcastic with you, either.”

“Oh, good.”

What a relief.

Hina let out a groan for some reason, and then pulled a pair of goggles back down over her face. While she’d rarely bothered before, turns out the water park used chemicals or something in the water that was different from what her Ultimate Lab had. Before it, like most things on the island, were blighted by the ancient conspiracies coming to light.

“Suit yourself,” Hiro sighed.

He had to wait a while as she burned off that tremendous energy.

Things were awkward around just Ogre. It felt like she was gonna smash Hiro like a board of wood in a karate dojo any second! Among his many other talents, Hiro had a finely-honed sense of danger, and it was going off like nuts. That just made him nervous and shifty, though. While it was perfectly understandable to get nervous around that monstrous behemoth of a supposed ‘woman’, it did make him act ‘suspicious’ to her, or whatever.

_That’s just life, I guess. We always get the things we fear the most._

_That’s why I always make sure to be afraid of beautiful women and piles of money._

“We’ve been here before.”

That voice was deep enough to belong to Ogre, but it was just slightly more masculine. Hiro turned over, and was surprised, and horrified, to see Hifumi in his swim trunks. Which effectively vanished between the gigantic layers of his pasty fat.

Or somebody had painted long swim trunks on a flesh-colored beach ball.

No, it had to be Hifumi. Bad memories of that first day, the Ultimate Beach Party, were resurfacing like acid flashbacks.

“What do you mean, man?” Hiro couldn't help but wonder. His natural curiosity was just one of many good traits, in his own humble opinion. Mysteries fired him up, especially the ones that couldn’t be solved through such mundane methods as divination and dowsing.

“Uhu. Greetings, Master Hagakure.” Hifumi tipped an imaginary fedora. “Fine weather for once, eh?”

The clouds were still a blanket over everything, draining light and life from the island, but at least they weren’t a wet blanket for now. The rain had let up, allowing the students a chance to get properly wet in pools and jacuzzis and stuff there at Nezumi Park.

“Guess so. What did you mean, dude? About being here before.”

Hifumi shrugged, and Hiro liked the effect a lot less there. Suddenly, a fatty mass bobbing up and down was no fun. Perspective was funny like that. “Oh, I was just speaking to myself. An unfortunate habit I picked up. Although luckily, all my time spent voluntarily alone didn’t make me… strange.”

He said, in a strange tone of voice.

“Yeah, I know, right? I mean, like. Seriously, dude. We’ve only had this island opened for a few days, though. So like, what gives?”

“That’s true,” Hifumi admitted. “However, I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since Mistress gave me that solid bop on the head for messing up her gyoza order again, I’ve had these… flashes.”

“That actually sounds kind of serious. Did you go to Mikan and get it checked out?”

“Naturally! I can’t jeopardize my condition, so soon after recovering from that terrible bout of workaholism.” Some places around the world, including most definitely the country they’d all been exiled from by the Hunt, might have seen that as admirable.

Sitting there, cranking out page, after page, with absolute obsession.

Hiro was given to understand that during the Plague Days, Hifumi planned out, storyboarded, brainstormed, and then produced a twelve-volume manga series.

At the cost of something he wouldn’t get nearly as easy as money, though. His health! It seemed even this manga artist finally started to understand that.

Especially since he wasn't exactly going to be getting anything printed or distributed out here.

“The strange thing was, though, that Head Nurse Angie said I didn’t have anything wrong with me. Aside from my lack of faith in Atua. And you know, she mayhap have had a point… if I were not so rational and skeptical, and thus superior to such spiritual nonsense!”

“Right on!” Hiro nodded. “Can’t let those religious types tell you what to do, man. Stay strong. But if you were fine, then…?”

“Head Nurse Angie’s provisional theory was that I might be experiencing some malfunction in the memory technology, like what Usami referenced-”

“Ohhh, I get it. Say no more, my man. Especially since-”

**_Splash._ **

Both of them were absolutely drenched by the tidal wave bursting its banks, signalling Hina’s arrival and sudden stop at the edge of the track.

“Since Hina’s back.”

Hey, wait. Is she doing that… deliberately?! No way. Not sweet, kind Hina.

Surely on the fifteenth time, she’d learn to be more considerate!

Especially if Hiro brought Hifumi along, and they both waved and greeted their classmate. This time, she was breathing heavily, and Hina pulled herself up out of the water with a single amazing leap. The motion, emerging from the flume and sitting on the edge, was achieved with no more difficulty than somebody leaning over slightly, even though it had to have taken every muscle in her body.

All twenty-thousand of them.

Hiro was at HPA legitimately and had a totally real high school diploma, why do you ask?

Even Hina, after going so hard for so long, had to recharge for a minute. It would literally be about one minute, as she gasped for air and tried to recenter herself. But it was a minute to chat up a hot girl, so like. Literally there was no reason not to.

“Hey, Hina! Hifumi was just talking to me about our old lives, the time we spent together at HPA and all that! How we were ‘here before’, not like literally, but, you know. A cool metaphor for other times we hung out at the pool together or whatever.”

“That wasn’t actually what I meant-”

“Isn’t that a thought? I mean, I rarely think about it. Or lots of things. But we could have been best buds in another time, and just forgot it!”

Normally, that was her cue to crinkle up her face and say ‘I doubt it’ or something else.

She didn’t do that, though. She didn’t even turn to look at the two guys, or at Ogre in the distance. She just looked out over the tent-covered horizon of the park, towards the direction the sun would eventually set.

“Memory, huh. I’ve been kinda thinking about that, too.”

Oh man, an actual hook.

Wait, Hina was thinking?! _That_ was not in the expected responses. “You… have?”

“I do think about things other than water and donuts, you know! Occasionally!”

_Good one, Hina. Good one._

“Anyway, I was just, well. Okay, I know this has kinda become a taboo for a lot of the group. And Angie said on the radio that we shouldn’t talk about it, or we’ll be ‘tempted’ or whatever by the outside world we left behind. But I can’t help but wonder. Like, about our families. You guys have families, right?”

“I was birthed just like everyone else,” Hifumi admitted, shivering at the very thought of such ‘pig disgusting meat things’. “However, my parents were, how one might say… neglectful. My real familial bond must only be with my dear older sister, Fujiko.”

“Aww, an older sister?” Hina smiled. “I wish I hadn’t forgotten that, thanks Usami. What’s this Fujiko like? Do you look up to her?”

“Of course!” Hifumi declared, punching a fist skywards. “My big sis is amazing! She is the one who helped inspire me to get serious about doujinshi and manga in general. Not just as some swine hobbyist, but to take my enthusiasm up to a professional level and start making money off it.

Our interests are, uh, wildly different. However, we found common ground, and I admired her spirit. Also, she beat me up a lot, and her fans called her ‘the domme artiste’.

Men begged her to step on them in the street.”

Hiro and Hina shared a look.

“That makes way too much sense,” Hina admitted. “Welp, my inspiring vision of your sis got shattered. Rip.”

“Hey now, don’t you dare judge her based on the past! Lately, she’s been nothing but a sweet angel! She realized that she had wronged me, and apologized profusely! Although I must admit candidly that it made me a little sad when she stopped stepping on me.”

Yeah.

Sometimes, a mystery’s solution was just what you’d expect.

Hifumi, now bothered for some dumb reason, demanded, “Very well then, Mistress Asahina. If we’re going there, then let us put all of our cards upon the table. Face-up in attack position! How about your next of kin?”

“I’m in sort of a similar way,” Hina admitted. “I wouldn’t call mom and dad, like, neglectful. They’re just, I don’t know. Mom and dad. They kept me going, they let me go to HPA. I’m grateful. Although it turned out to be a wild ride, I’m still not sad I went for it. But when I got really good growing up and developed my Ultimate Swimming Pro talent, a lot of it was just to show off to Yuta. My little bro.”

How nice-

“He’s such an idiot.”

Oh.

“I mean, seriously. If you rolled his brain down the sidewalk, it would fall into the cracks.”

“That bad, eh?” Hifumi looked horrified, and his weird black hair spike thing stood up. Like a lot of the hair and accessories people had on, it was sure expressive for being an inanimate object, huh- “Well, I suppose that all our family relations cannot be blissful and friendly, such is the nature of this life.”

“Huh? Oh, no. I freakin’ love the little guy! He just was born dead-ass stupid. He’d be running into light poles or something with that ‘I’m gonna be the Ultimate Jogger’ routine if it wasn't for me around to catch him. Heck, that’s probably what he’s busy doing right now.”

Or being hunted by the, you know. Ultimate Hunt.

Hiro at least had enough sense not to say _that._

_Who am I kidding, anyhow? If the kid’s got half of Hina’s talent, a tenth, a hundredth, those Monokuma-masked mooks could never catch him._

“And yes, for reference, he does basically look like a smaller, male me,” Hina said. “That’s fine, right? Come on, Hiro. Your turn, fess up. Secret crush on your sister?”

“Tch. As if! Don’t be mean, Hina. I’m sure that I’ve said before that I’m an only child.”

“Oh, right!” Hina snapped. “Sorry. You told me when I was in the Donut Zone, so it kinda just went like water off a duck. Or frosting off a delicious chocolate donut. Mmh… Er, uh. I’m still here. I’m sure you’ve never talked about your folks, though! Come on, spit it out. If Touko can just drop that she had ‘two moms’ in conversation, surely you’ve got to have some weird-ass thing about your family. For you to turn out the way you did, I mean.”

Hiro shook his head. “Nah. At least, that ain’t a concern. Definitely don’t have the two moms, just one. But, like, just mom. Dad wasn’t ever really a thing.”

“Oh.” Hina was brought up short by that, considering she’d just been inadvertently poking at something that might have been a real sore spot for her classmate. “Oh, uh. Well. Yeah.”

“I mean, I know he had to have been ‘a thing’ at some point,” Hiro said. “Birds and the bees, and all that. But after what I’ve actually heard mom call ‘the donation’, he just. Whoosh. We’ve met I think… twice, ever? So for simplicity, I just tell people I don’t have a dad. I sure didn’t have an actual, like, parent-dad.”

Hifumi shook his head. “What a lowlife. At least you’re an adult now, although I imagine things may have been, well. Tough?”

“Mom did everything she could. She's the best, I don't care what anyone says! We both made money by any means," Hiro admitted. “Like, both of us. We did whatever we could to make it by. That’s part of why I’m so, you know. Enterprising. Although part of that is just my natural spirit, heh.”

“I wish you’d find ways to make your money that don’t involve _trying to sell bits of classmates to the mob_ ,” Hina sighed.

_Everyone’s a critic._

While things like ‘regrets’ would remain a foreign concept to Hiro, he did have to admit, just to himself, that things had changed. He no longer, as he’d told himself for so long, ‘needed the money’, no matter what. In fact, money as a whole was looking pointless, at least until this whole thing blew over.

Nobody knew when things would go back to normal, or if such a thing was even possible.

The world shifted around them and left people in the dust. Many of the things they thought were precious or laws of nature had just changed beneath their feet. The people who’d made it had done so by tossing stuff away they’d thought was vital.

Maybe it was just that things were a lot clearer now. What mattered, and what didn’t matter one good goddamn.

Despite his best efforts to not get attached, to just deal with shallow concerns and let the rest sort itself out, Hiro had failed. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to get along with everyone, now. It wasn’t always for the most noble reasons, she was scared to death of the Hunt and Monokuma and all that, but whatever.

Even he could try to pull his own weight in whatever new crisis came along.

_I’ll never go back to being the kind of guy you could just ignore._

_No promises. But if it’s even something I can do, then what the hell. Why not?_


	29. 3-6a. You Must Live I (Chihiro)

Chihiro kicked off his wee booties on the welcome mat, and pulled off the cute digitally-knitted green scarf and hat. He removed the multi-layered coat he had to avoid the sensations of freezing.

By the time he was down to his normal light jacket and skirt, he stood about a quarter of the size and thickness he showed out there in the snow.

The warmth felt so good, but the anticipation of what could be on the sliver of a tablet device he’d just found dwarfed that sensation.

He made his way up from the common room of Black Hat Inn, to the stairwell.

To come face-to-face with his very own would-be murderer.

Korekiyo Shinguji.

The rail of a supposed man towered over Chihiro’s slender figure. Only serpentine narrowed eyes were visible out of that black leather facemask as his dark hair fell long, all around him. He looked down on Chihiro in every sense of the word, and merely seeing him again conjured up all the horrifying memories.

The others told Chihiro to never be alone with the bastard.

Sensible advice. If this was reality, and he hadn’t been riddled full of holes for his trouble.

Neither of those conditions applied. There was nothing to fear from the psychopath.

Not in this virtual world, and not out in reality, either.

Just like his victims, Korekiyo clung to life in a hospital bed, tended by machinery. A hospital bed and machinery that, quite unlike the invincible walls of the prison, was very breakable indeed.

Something Big Bro Mondo had taken pains to remind the creeper of, the very moment they met in this digital wonderland.

The protectiveness was very cute, but unnecessary.

“Hey there, Kiyo.”

Chihiro wasn’t able to smile convincingly, but his voice was fairly cheerful, considering he was confronting a nightmare in human form. A nightmare who had claimed so many other lives before he was finally caught and stopped by the Ultimates.

“I mean you no harm. Well, I couldn’t in Miu’s ever so lovely game.”

“Yep,” Chihiro nodded. “So, could you, uh, move? Collision is still a thing in this world.”

“First, would you consent to answering a simple question for me?”

Chihiro wanted to tell him to slow-roast in hell, down with all the people who refused Atua’s mercy and justice. Instead, he stared up, waiting.

“Why?”

There was only one possible thing Kiyo could be asking about. Chihiro, in an effort to end this encounter as quickly as possible, cut to the chase.

“I told Maki what I’ll tell you now. Nobody, no matter what they’ve done, deserves to die. Ever. In hindsight, that might have come off harsh to her. Considering her Ultimate talent… but I didn’t know that at the time. Maybe that’s why she listened. Or maybe she just couldn’t believe it. Whatever the reason, it’s lucky for you.”

“Quite. I cannot even pretend to agree with such a peaceful perspective. Or its premise. That being killed is such a terrible thing, per se. Of course, the way we see the world is so different that it may never be reconciled.”

“Yep!” Chihiro nodded, trying to find a way past Kiyo’s character model.

As it turned out, Kiyo wasn’t quite so rail thin in this world. Miu had upgraded him to a more muscular, shoujo-friendly body. Presumably in anticipation of roleplaying with this monster in human skin or something, because Miu was _like that-_

“However. I can still respect your viewpoint, and the force with which you hold that humanitarian conviction. More to the point, I must thank you. I do in fact realize that without you, I’d have died at the hands of that heartless killing machine unfamiliar with the joys of love, my goal unmet. The worst possible outcome. All of those incidents before would have been pointless, those splendid Friends would have all died for nothing. Thanks to you, their spirits, and I, still have… hope.”

Chihiro glared up at him. “You’re welcome. Can you please move?”

“Oh, of course~” With a flourish, Kiyo stepped aside. “Just know that I intend to repay the favor, somehow. In here, or in reality, when I am well. Sister is most grateful too. She wouldn’t let me go without compensating your preternatural kindness.”

Chihiro wasn’t kind enough to take that in stride, apparently.

It was the last straw.

He stopped halfway up the stairwell, and looked down.

“Kiyo?”

“Yes, Chihiro darling?”

“Your sister was a whore. I’m really glad you didn’t manage to send me off to meet her. If she looked anything like you, my ghostly eyeballs would have burned off in horror. Oh, and next time you ‘talk’ or whatever psychotic breakdown thing you do, make sure to apologize to Sister. After all, she didn’t get her hundred Friends, and couldn’t have, even if you’d won. All because you can’t tell the difference between boys and girls!”

Chihiro left for his room without a glance backwards to judge the effect on target.

No need.

Angie said that vindictiveness and spite weren’t virtues, but Chihiro never claimed to be perfect.

Just forgiven.

He finally got to the instanced room that the faithful held.

It wasn’t really ‘his’ room.

Or at least, it wasn’t only ‘his’ room, but he was the only one there at the moment.

Probably for the best.

Especially after that encounter.

Fitting with the supernatural thing that monster Kiyo started, when the pad’s screen came to life, Chihiro saw a ghost.

Or at least, somebody who had been gone from Chihiro’s life long enough to qualify.

In the poor lighting, he could barely make it out, but that had to be him.

Dad.

_“Hey, tiger. How’re you doing? Like I need to ask. I know wherever you end up, you’re doing fantastic. You always find a way. Even when things seem hopeless. I’m, uh.”_

Dad coughed, and blood came out. He dabbed at it with a napkin.

 _“Sorry, but I don’t have long left. And what’s worse, they want me to keep this video ‘neutral and fact-free’. Apparently, they want it so that they can use this in a variety of situations, in case… Aw, forget it. I’m dying, and I’ve finally learned not to give a…_ hoot _about the rules.”_

The ground shook, and dust fell from the darkened ceiling. People piled around in the subway tunnel gasped.

Dad didn’t even blink.

_“I’ve got it. The Virus. By the time you see this, then it won’t matter how long it’s been, or what’s happened, or what they did to your memories. I’ll be gone.”_

Chihiro couldn’t breathe.

_“I was never worth crying over, but that never stopped your mother. I’ve made her cry way too much. You too. I won’t tell you not to cry more, or any of that macho… crap. You’ve heard more than enough of that garbage from everyone else. ‘A man has to be strong’. Well tough for all those… jerks. Because you’re a man. Whatever you choose to wear or however you wanna act. And you’re stronger than all of them combined. Stronger than anyone._

_Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man! I’m not just saying this because I’m your Dad and I’m legally obligated to. Although that’s also true, heh.”_

Dad always could make Chihiro laugh through his tears.

_“Even if your memories can’t be recovered, you’re still Chihiro. You just are the kind of person who can do amazing things. So live on, because humanity needs you now more than ever before. If they dropped you on an island, you’d have a working AI inside of a month, and that’s no joke. Forget the big-ticket items, like revolutionizing computer science before you’re twenty-five. Forget about the fact that they’re going to put your skirt-wearing butt in history books one of these days. You might have already, I guess._

_Depending on how long it takes for you to get this,_ they _might have already._

_Oops. Sorry, shadowy men-in-black that I know for a fact are gonna check this. Here’s something to edit: **You suck.**_

_No, kid. What I’m referring to is personal. I’m talking about that strength inside of you. You’ve always had it, and you always will. You’re not like me. Your mother was right about me. I let you both down. That’s why I had to do this. This is my last hope. So, at least you’ve got something to remember me by. That one time I told you a codeword, like this is some bad spy thriller.”_

Chihiro pulled out a notepad. As it turned out, he didn’t need to write anything down.

_“‘Alter Ego’. Yeah, it’s trite, but the point is to make it personally meaningful. And I know how much the little guy means to you. In fact, I know the feeling all too well. The miraculous joy of bringing new life into this world. The frustration when that life doesn’t do what you tell it to. The awe of watching your new existence do things we never even thought were possible.”_

Another, more powerful shock rocked the low-resolution camera of Dad’s phone.

It clattered to the floor, and Dad let out a string of G-rated expletives that wouldn’t even pass muster coming out of Taka’s mouth, now that he’d gone insane.

Eventually Dad just gave up trying to find the phone in the darkness of the makeshift emergency shelter.

The final message Chihiro ever got from his deadbeat, loving father was muffled by the camera being face-down on the dirty concrete of a subway station.

Oddly fitting.

_“Somebody smart once told me ‘It’s our curse to be what they grow beyond’. It’s true. You’re already one hell of a man, and I’m so proud of you. We’ve both always been proud of you. Good luck, Chihiro. We love you.”_

Chihiro bowed his head and put his hands together.

_Atua, please grant your mercy to my Dad, Taichi Fujisaki. May he rest in peace._

_He was the only one who understood when I was growing up._

_He sure understood a fucking lot better than dear old Mom._

_If she’s with you too, then please, Atua, smack her for me. And then let her rest in peace, too. And give Dad a hug, please._

_Fuck it. May Kiyo’s Sister rest in peace, too._

_I will never forgive him, but she’s as big of a victim as, uh, any of his actual victims._

_Maybe moreso. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to learn that somebody was killing in my name._

_You probably know how that feels._

_If you uh, take requests, those are mine. Angie wasn’t specific on that. Or a lot of things._

_Um, amen._

Chihiro curled up onto the fake digital bed, and cried himself to sleep.

When he woke up, he was surrounded by Angie and the others, all firmly asleep themselves. A few clutching pads of their own.

More than a few clutching parts of Chihiro.

A living bed, and living blankets, were the best kind.

_Dad, I’ve found a lot of things since coming to Gopher Island._

_God's one of them._

_Friends who are willing to accept me for who I really am are another._

_I even joined a biker gang_ and _a cult._

_Nearly got killed a time or two since becoming an Ultimate, but hey._

_I still think I'm doing pretty well, on net. Since I've got everyone here with me._

_I'll never be afraid again. I'll never run away, or hide myself or who I am, ever again._

_I swear that on, uh. Whoever's chest I'm grabbing._


	30. 3-7a. You Must Live II (Touko)

As it turned out, Hell wasn’t hot like some people thought.

It was freezing cold.

For a thin slip of an ugly girl like Touko Fukawa, extra layers were required just to survive. Okay, so survival wasn’t really a concern in this game. But she definitely felt like she was going to die. She sought shelter as soon as the others were done bullying her, and intended to huddle around the fire and read what few books were available.

_Give me control of my body again, and th-then take me to a place w-where I can’t even go outside. Fantastic._

_Eh. ‘going outside’ was never my forte, that’s not the problem._

_The problem is that I c-can’t even k-k-kill myself._

_Even if I found a loophole in the game, I’d just respawn. This isn’t some tacky setup where ‘if you die in the game, you die for real!’_

_Why would_ that _be programmed into a place where violence supposedly d-doesn’t exist?_

If Touko still cared about containing the side of her that wanted to slice open cute boys like decorative pinatas, that would be a serious upside to this world. A place where she could relax for once, and trust that She wasn’t going to go on a rampage.

Shame it came a little late to be useful!

That Girl had already made pincushions out of a pair of l-lying scum boys, and the group had, uh.

Not taken kindly to that.

Touko couldn’t keep her promise to Master, or even keep herself out of jail. That had at least been one thing she’d managed on the outside world pretty well, all those years since middle school.

Maybe that had been the wrong move. Survival instinct only got one so far.

_If only I’d had the guts to really do it._

_None of us would be dealing with the inconvenient little problem known as Touko Fukawa anymore._

_**S-She** would die with me, too._

It was just like with Kiyo. Nobody in this world would mourn if Touko died. They’d scarcely even notice except to breathe a sigh of relief. It would just be a problem to take off the growing pile.

_Not like I’d be leaving behind grieving loved ones, either. If mom, dad, and mom did survive the T-Tragedy and the Hunt, they’ll have bigger things to worry about then a wayward daughter._

_Not t-that they ever w-worried in the first place._

_Wh-what’s with that creepy Izuru in the corner, though? He just sits there in the inn’s common room and broods by the fire?_

_What a loser, Master would never-_

“Toukoooooo!”

“Oh no.”

 _ **“Oh yes!”**_ Unannounced, and uninvited, a punk-rock cannonball slammed into Touko. The force of the impact imparted no damage, or even force; it was the same was running into a brick wall. Except that if the bundle of limitless energy ran into a wall, she’d be hurt; this collision just cancelled out Ibuki’s motion, leaving her clinging to Touko’s side. “How’s it going, my darling writer?~”

“What do you want this time…”

“Same thing I wanted last time,” Ibuki replied, sounding as if she hadn’t just crossed paths with a dangerous criminal. The virtual world enabled all sorts of truly absurd things. “Friendship!”

“T-Then, what can I do to make you _fuck off…”_

As though he was her far more portly shadow, that copy of Master stomped up, his footsteps doubtless shaking the ground beneath him. Or maybe Ibuki was just rocking them both back and forth, in much the same manner, and for much the same reason, that a dog humped legs. “Telling us what that fa… what the real Byakuya Togami is up to would be a worthy start.”

Touko looked up from her Ibuki death-grasp, eyes wide. “M-Master? Uh, why would I tell you anything about Master, you f-f-at faker?!”

Ibuki exploded into childish giggles. “Fat faker isn’t bad! Although for full marks, you should have thought of something involving pigs.”

_Hey, I’m insulting your b-b-boyfriend here. Do you maybe wanna get offended or something?!_

“One cannot help but notice that Byakuya is taking a leading role in events, after being content to sit back and let the situation evolve for so long,” The Imposter said, his tone as flat as his girlfriend. “You follow him around like a puppy, regardless of how much scorn he heaps. You have doubtless been around him more than anyone but Miu, who has proven deeply unhelpful.”

Touko glared up at the black-haired porker. “Y-You missed the part where _I have any reason at all to talk to you_. Aren’t you two scared of the big bad p-psycho anyhow? Especially you, Imposter?”

The Imposter shook his head. “In this world, you’re defanged. It’s not like I take that on mere faith, of course. Provisions have been made. If you did become an issue, I have seven contingency plans to handle the threat. In any case, you’re no longer of concern. As for your incentive, I will take Ibuki somewhere else if you answer our questions honestly.”

_You sure haven’t dropped the arrogant attitude, huh. That’s completely unlike Master, who… Okay, so maybe I have a thing for arrogant, domineering men._

Touko seethed and stewed, but she really was helpless in here.

Even if violence hadn’t been prohibited, the Imposter was about as far out of Touko’s strike zone as a man could possibly be.

“Shoot.”

The Imposter nodded. “Then, specifically. It’s clear that Byakuya has swallowed some portion of his vast pride to become confederates with Miu. She has also sat on the sidelines in the past, only to take center stage now. For what purpose are they guiding the events of this absurd game?”

“... Even if I tell you I don’t know, you wouldn’t believe it. You’d just think I was lying.”

“Try me.”

“Alright, then. I really, honestly don’t know. Like, seriously. M-Master sees me as lower than the lowest beast. Lower even than a threat or enemy. I’m just mud on his shoe he occasionally stops to kick off. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. Much as I’ve tried to be sneaky. Snow’s loud. I d-don’t have a clue what he’s up to.”

Ibuki looked like a thought occurred to her, which was probably a new and scary experience. “Ooh. Has he been meeting with Angie, Ibuki wonders?”

“...! H-How did you…”

“Because you just confirmed it,” The Imposter smirked. “You’re not the first girl to underestimate Ibuki in various ways, nor the first to suffer for it. Angie has become more overbearing too. At first, it would seem that Byakuya and Miu are totally opposed to Angie and her cult’s methods. However, if they’ve been meeting out in the F-Frostlands…”

“I dare say we’ve cracked this case wide open, Holmes,” Ibuki nodded sagely, despite a lack of any sagely wisdom.

Or any sober competence not tainted with heavy substance abuse.

“A-Actually, and I’m just saying this to make you go away sooner… T-Those meetings with Angie, well. Neither of them come away happy afterwards. I think it’s more like n-negotiations. Or arguments.”

“Arguments?” Imposter shook his head. “I’ve never seen Angie so much as raise her voice in the time we’ve known her.”

“Well, yeah. She’s all smiles, like ever. S-Stepford creepy frozen smiles,” Touko clarified, scoffing. “So I wouldn’t worry about them all teaming up to brainwash everyone, or whatever. If anything, the whole White Hats thing is their way of t-trying to limit the expansion of Angie’s power. I think.”

“That just brings us back to the central issue, old boy,” Ibuki pondered, puffing on a pipe. “Namely, why does Big Man Byakuya care?”

Touko sighed as Ibuki nuzzled. “That one I couldn’t even give a guess on. N-Not that I’d betray Master. The stuff I’ve told you already isn’t going to hurt him, but helping you figure out his motives… E-Even if he was gonna blow up the world, I’d be there handing him the sticks of TNT and drilling a hole to the Earth’s core. Gladly.”

“How eloquent,” The Imposter sighed. “Very well, though. You actually responded, which was unexpected. You have my thanks.”

Touko fixed him with another glare. _“And…?”_ She pointed to the technicolor druggie limpet still attached.

“And,” The Imposter said. “You may also have this item, recovered fresh from the Frost.”

The faker produced a certain, very distinctive kind of flatscreen pad. One labelled **TOUKO FUKAWA**. He placed it on the coffee table before the two girls.

“Do you want… some privacy?” Ibuki asked, while still clinging to the poor girl.

Touko sighed. “W-Why start considering what I want _now?_ I already know what’s on that video, assuming Usami knows anything at all. Which is still not something I’m p-prepared to admit! As you said, in this world, I’m helpless. Why not stay and laugh? Here, I’ll put on your evening entertainment.”

Just one problem.

The girl who popped up on Touko’s motive video was somebody who Touko had never seen before in her life. A perfectly-generic brunette with pea-green eyes and a nice black suit. She was also wearing a white mask that covered her lower face…

Oh! Probably because Kameko was on her arm!

_I get it. She’s some Future Foundation goon, sent to recover Kameko and record this. S-She can’t be a bad person, either, if Kameko is tolerating being that close to her without… letting loose. Or maybe that’s why she’s gagging._

For you see, Touko had expected to find Kameko in her motive video.

It was the only thing that made sense in this insane world.

The feeling of deep, abiding love, respect, and kinship between Touko Fukawa and Kameko broke through all boundaries.

Kameko also happened to be a **Brown marmorated stink bug.**

What of it?!

The woman’s arm moved, and somebody, a girl throwing their voice from off-camera, pretended to speak for Kameko. The anonymous flunkie rolled her eyes at this, but allowed it to go on.

_“Hey, Touko! It’s your cute, lovable, deeply stinky little friend, Kameko!”_

Ibuki looked from Touko to the pad, and back again several thousand times. “Don’t tell Ibuki...”

“Y-Yep,” Touko sighed, hitting the pause button. The people making the video were making light of her, so why not watch it with people who could roundly mock how pathetic and lonely she was? “Laugh it up. Kameko here is, without a doubt, my best friend.” Despite the invitation, neither of them laughed in Touko’s face.

Probably just saving the mocking laughter for their own head. So they could _pretend_ to be good people, the usual hypocrisy.

One of many vices that Kameko was immune to. When she liked you, you knew it. When she didn’t like you, then you _really_ knew it. There was no capacity for deceit. For ‘friendship’ masking malice and humiliation.

When people called themselves Touko’s ‘f-friend’, they inevitably betrayed her.

She hit play.

_“Because we’re all fucked, the Future Foundation asked me to make this recording for you! A little something to remember me by. I’ll always love you, Touko!”_

“A-As if I’d ever forget you,” Touko said. “Or what we had together.”

“You are aware that’s not _actually_ the insect speaking, right?” The Imposter asked, concerned.

“Of c-c-c-course I know that,” Touko snarled vehemently. “But it’s conveying the feelings Kameko has to be going through, s-so it’s fine.”

“Are you tearing up?!” Ibuki asked in alarm.

Maybe it _was_ a little dusty in that common room.

_“No matter what distance separates us, we’ll always be together in my little, buggy heart.”_

_“Are you finished, Kotoko?”_ The suited woman asked, staring off-screen.

The same voice that had spoken for Kameko replied. _“I will never be finished! But I will stop. For now.”_

The woman rolled her eyes again. _“Thanks.”_ She reached up with her free hand, and pulled down her mask. _“Hey, Touko. As you probably guessed, it’s me, too.”_

Ibuki scratched her head. “Who’s this, then?”

Touko shook her head, without looking away from the screen. “I haven’t the faintest.”

 _“We’ve managed to get ourselves into one heck of a mess, right?”_ The woman asked, as if they were lifelong friends or something. Who was this impertinent Plain Jane?! Tsumugi had nothing on her! _“Not like that’s anything new. That’s why I’m not too worried, honestly. If we managed to save Towa City, then this’ll be a breeze for you. Just don’t let, you know, **Her** out. Please.”_

_**… Her?** _

Did this random woman… could she possibly have known?! If she knew about Kameko, then it could have been possible, but how…

 _“If I say anything more, then it would cause a lot of problems. And this message might not even get to you. But you know who I’m talking about,”_ The woman continued. _“Eh, you’ll be fine. After all, you’ve got that promise with Byakuya, right? Even if you aren’t fawning over him like a slave anymore, well. I’ll always be grateful for how he helped you grow back at HPA. Since I too benefited from the new, cooler Touko-”_

The woman doubled over with a nasty, hacking cough, before finally getting back up into frame. While she was down there, doubtless something she did a lot, because Touko could just tell she had that kinda look, it was hard to miss that big, dumb hair spike.

_Just like all those meddlesome wannabe-VN-protagonists._

_“Whew. That is one seriously powerful gas attack. And I’ve been in actual chemical warfare zones. This was worse. It’s gonna be literal years before I get the smell out. And I just got this nice suit to go with my new job… Oh, whatever.”_

“Your friendship with such a potent stink bug doubtless explains the smell,” The Imposter remarked dispassionately.

“Hey!” Touko snapped, deeply offended. “She’s not just a stink bug! Don’t refer to Kameko like that. She’s my dear insect friend! A friendsect!”

Rather than balk at this, the Imposter nodded solemnly.

“Understood. My apologies for using the wrong term for your friendsect.”

At least he knew how to _act_ respectful.

Touko continued the recording, but couldn’t have been prepared for what was to come.

Just as her own eyes were watering, the girl on the other end was holding back tears. Just barely. She wiped them away, taking deep, raspy breaths.

_“I know you fought even harder than Makoto to bring me along, but I’m the one who volunteered to stay behind. I mean, I failed the most basic test. The whole ‘being immune part’.”_

The woman coughed again, bending forward. This time, she took a while to come back up.

 _“Make sure it’s not in-frame,”_ The stocky brunette instructed the higher-voiced probably-girl behind the camera. _“That would be awkward, huh? … Yeah. I couldn’t tell Makoto when I made his video. But apparently I can’t hide anything from you. Makes sense.”_

 _Nothing_ made _any_ sense!

Why did she keep mentioning _Makoto_ , of all people?!

_“At least since he’s going, I know the ‘Naegi name’ will live on or whatever. Please, try to be friends with my big brother. If he’s still somehow a magnet for all the most dangerous women on the planet, he’s gonna need a badass like you backing him up._

_I’m sorry for a whole lot of things. I’m sorry I got myself infected like an idiot. I’m sorry I can’t go with you, even though we promised to face everything together. To share all our burdens, in sickness and in health. I’m sorry I never said it enough, but here._

_I love you, Touko._

_Your part of the code is **‘Towa City’.**_

_Don’t die._

_Whatever you do, please. Live on. And make sure Makoto doesn’t get himself killed, either!_

_You both deserve to survive.”_

Nobody knew what to say when the video ended.

Eventually, the Imposter spoke up. “As I recall from speaking with him, Makoto’s sister was named Komaru.”

_Komaru, huh? Yeah, he talked my ear off about her. Not that I retained any of it, or much of his useless prattle. Damnit._

Something pricked the back of Touko’s mind.

Something deep, something dark.

A shadow of something, held just out of reach. Whatever had been done to her memory had just smashed at a thousand meters a second into a reminder of the past. A part of her memory she’d lost. A part of her life that had been stolen from her. By the rabbit, or the bear, or whoever.

Even though Touko didn’t remember knowing this Komaru Naegi, and was not a terribly sympathetic person overall, Touko couldn’t help but cry for her.

“Makoto hasn’t found his own motive vid yet,” Ibuki said gingerly, poking her fingers together. “... Who’s gonna tell him?”

“The contents of a motive video,” The Imposter replied solemnly, “Is for its owner to divulge, and them alone. The choice is yours, Touko. However, if you talk to Makoto, you might learn more about someone who was… clearly dear to you.”

Touko shook her head. “How could I ever face him? After what happened, after what I let Her do, much less now that I know this?”

The Imposter sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt it, but I’ve also, like both of you, been… inclined towards self-hatred. To such an intense degree, that at one point I considered just vanishing off the face of the Earth. I can’t tell you that your feelings are right or wrong. I just know that I’m grateful neither of you girls are physically able to do… _that_ anymore. Not in here.

And Touko, you in particular now have something to consider. When was the last time any fellow human could have honestly told you that they loved you? Can you really die before you learn more about such a person? Think on it. That’s not an order, or anything. I can’t pretend to give those anymore. Just a suggestion.”

He left.

Ibuki looked like she wanted to be anywhere else in either world.

Yet, she stayed with Touko and patted her back as Touko cried.

When the moody writer had recovered enough to tell the Ultimate Musician to shit off, Ibuki obeyed. Not without comment, though. “Uh, by the way? We didn’t find that one. Shuichi did. He gave it to to Ibuki, to give to you. Yeah. So. Uh, something to think about too. Lot of that lately. Uh. See you later! Bye!”

Touko curled up into a ball on the sofa, and stayed there.

She pointedly deflected the few attempts at conversation.

Luckily, even among her ‘fellows’, few would want anything to do with her.

She stayed there quite a while, staring at the fireplace as it waxed and waned.


End file.
